The Killing Wind
by manganerd
Summary: It's the next generation, and the curse has returned after being broken. But the curse seems completely different, and more dangerous. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapters 1, 2, 3

Hi, I'm a new arrival to This story is finished, but I'll only put up the rest of the chapters if I get reviews--so, please, read and review! I'd love to get any feedback.

I changed a lot of things--there's a different country, language, etc. I'll include a list of the original FB characters and their changed names, for those of you who want to keep track of them. In these chapters, Akito is Asheno. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to Natsuki Takaya. Anything else you recognize from other mangas, animes, books, and movies also doesn't belong to me.

**Prologue**

_Faran-Hat-Zhuku_

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, Spring is still far away,_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, And within the cold ground,_

_Shedal thathu lesim surokha ashu Starved seeds await warm sun_

_Su dho mhedosh han. And fresh silvery rain._

I was only five years old the first time I heard the infernal song.

_Shomithu lana lhunose Bereft of any leaves,_

_Shum hararalor aha humumu Yet still standing although_

_Nhozalor thithu hare karin Cruel mountain winds whip them,_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru. The flame trees of Thika._

There was a time when I would've preferred being whipped by those "cruel mountain winds" rather than suffer what I did at the hands of Asheno.

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, Spring is still far away,_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, And within the cold ground,_

_Atharalor eshusum thathu Forgotten and stray seeds_

_Hisukam su hiri. Begin to awaken._

It is not possible for me to forget what has happened. I remember every time the song starts playing inside my mind, and there is no way for me to silence it.

_Surozi shomathu dzosisalor, Hundreds of years ago,_

_Dzinuthu thumathu menare, Blossoms of fire open'd,_

_Aleren lhorene lhosusu Bringing hope and color_

_Fu Thika hitoremare. To forbidding Thika._

Most Hothans think this song is beautiful and take great pride in it—after all, it is the national anthem. Rarely will one see a Hothan with dry eyes after listening to "The Flame Trees of Thika." But when I hear it, frustration, rage, pain and heartbreak seethe within myself.

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, Spring is still far away,_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, And within the cold ground,_

_Fulanalor elerenal lheshothu Deep and ancient roots_

_Kheriza shahesu dhemi fusoro. Struggle to convey life upwards._

The first time I heard it…I was cowering in a dark corner as Shoma Asheno, the head of the prestigious Shoma family, beat me and railed at me.

"Why don't you act like a DOG, damn it! You're supposed to be the Dog of the Dzuni, but you don't act like one! You're not normal!" Followed by a punch to the side of my head, which left my ears ringing. "Shoma Faran-Hat-Zhuku." He said my name with an audible sneer. I saw his fist silhouetted against the moonlight from the bay window behind him.

_Shomathu dzirosura emiros Will the flowers flourish_

_Thiri shune ze li mahos ghobirime? To spite endless winter,_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru Or be swallowed by ice?_

_The flame trees of Thika._

Asheno continued the relentless rhythm of punches. A numbness overtook me as I sought to cover myself.

_Thi zhula faramazal, "Dziral "Spring," whispered a rogue wind_

_Hatharu hureno su neno will return without fail, _

_Lhahemithumon lerenalor And with it, the trees that_

_Ahami fu Hothizuna." Bring beauty to Hoth."_

"Hey, stop that!" Hatsuharu yelled as he ran into the room. Clad in his blue pajamas, he had become suspicious at the sound of thudding and breaking objects.

"Oh, I see the stupid little cow has come to join us," remarked Asheno, letting go of my robe. I sat there like a slug, my vision swimming and only somewhat aware of the drama between Asheno and Hatsuharu.

"I'm not a cow!" protested Hatsuharu. Neither Hatsuharu nor I had ever been able to grasp why Asheno insisted that we were a cow and a dog, respectively. And what was the "Dzuni," for that matter?

Asheno grabbed Hatsuharu by his thick black and white hair and lifted him up. Despite having a frail, 5'5" frame, Asheno possessed a demonic strength whenever he became violently angry. Hatsuharu's gray eyes widened, then a curious thing happened. His eyes turned a distinctly darker gray, and his normally calm face contorted into a livid expression of fury. Hatsuharu twisted around and gave Asheno a resounding blow to the head. I saw Asheno fall to the ground unconscious, the moonlight falling across his pale face and starkly illuminating the hard lines of what had once been a beautiful, almost feminine face.

"C'mon, Haku, are you okay?" Hatsuharu, his eyes now back to light gray, put a hand on my upper arm and started lifting me up. Shakily, I stood up and looked at Hatsuharu. He was only nine months older than I was, but he was a good four or five inches taller than me.

"We'll go back to my room." I only nodded and looked at the prone Asheno. My guardian and my worst enemy. As I stared at him, I heard the tinkling of high notes that marks the beginning of "The Flame Trees of Thika," in my mind.

"Do you hear that, Hatsuharu?" I asked. A mournful, low note now accompanied the high notes...an ethereal voice beginning, _Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, su…_

"What?"

"The national song—it's playing."

"Hmm? I don't hear anything." He narrowed his eyes, concerned. "You need sleep."

I turned my head, trying to find something in the room that might be playing the song. But aside from Asheno and a small table, the room was empty. Outside the bay window, the harithe—"mountain-killer wind"—ripped through the extensive courtyard. _Nhozalor thithu hare karin/Thikazi…_sang the voice as the majestic flame tree in the center of the yard bent over, groaning under the onslaught of the wind. Its scarlet flowers had not bloomed for 500 years. That was true for every flame tree in Hoth.

I have since then lost count of the number of times I've heard "The Flame Trees of Thika." That marked the beginning of my seeing visions and hearing voices—the visions and voices that would cause me so much pain and eventually reveal hundreds of years' worth of Shoma family secrets.

"Hurry, the servants are coming and they're going to see what happened," Hatsuharu urgently whispered. Seeing the glazed look in my eyes, he gently touched my arm. "Haku…?"

Running footsteps...the servants had decided it was safe enough to see what had happened. Hatsuharu started pulling me up the steps.

"Look," I laughed, giddily pointing to the window, "The tree won't fall over even in the harithe…" The wind rose in pitch as I blacked out.

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru The flame trees of Thika_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru The flame trees of Thika_

_**Chapter 1**_

"Hey, Haku." The towering teenager with the broad chest and shoulders put a black glove-covered hand on Haku's arm. Haku turned and looked into a pair of dark sunglasses. That touch reminded him of one night many years ago, when Hatsuharu first became his "unofficial bodyguard." Even though Haku was now almost six feet, he still had to look up at Hatsuharu. Both of them were much taller and stronger now, but they continued to wage a war at home against Asheno.

"Hatsuharu." Haku smiled. "I'm just waiting…"

"HA-RAAAAA!" In a panic, Hatsuharu dropped his old bike and bucked as a silver-haired whirlwind leapt onto his back. "I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOUUUU!"

"Kho, I told you not to call me Hara! And please don't yell in my ear, you do it often enough without making me go deaf." Hatsuharu moaned, grabbing the petite Khosure and setting him on the ground. The commotion went unnoticed on the sidewalk in front of Mhagenu School, which was crowded with students leaving for the day. Large groups of teenagers also milled around the spacious front steps, waiting for friends, catching up on the day's events, or just enjoying one of Lhasa's warmest days. A few gray clouds gave a hint of rain.

"You wouldn't be so cranky if you had a girlfriend, Hara," Khosure pouted, pointing a white index finger at Hatsuharu's nose. "You'd have no trouble getting one. All the girls love him, right, Haku?" Khosure pursed his lips, batted his large, bright golden eyes, and caressed his long silver tresses in a perfect imitation of one of Hatsuharu's most overt admirers.

"I don't need a girlfriend, and stop calling me Hara," Hatsuharu said as he picked up his tangled bike to hide the smile creeping onto his face.

"Don't torture Hatsuharu, Khosure," admonished a tall, serious-looking girl, walking over to the small group. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders, and her sharp, jade green eyes darted to Khosure. "You're wasting enough of his time." She frowned down at Khosure—she was as tall as Haku, and Khosure was a good several inches shorter than Haku.

"Hello to you, too, Tori," Khosure replied, unfazed.

"Are you joining us at the café now?" Haku asked Tori.

"Yes, but not for too long—We have a very difficult math test tomorrow, you know." It was that special time of year when all students in their last year of junior high school were preparing for high school entrance exams. The four friends didn't know it, but the decision had already been made for them—they would attend Karori.

"Ah, Tori, the shining genius who sparkles while the rest of us languish…" Khosure dramatically put a despairing hand to his forehead.

"Didn't study either, Kho, hmm?" grinned Hatsuharu. "Sorry, I can't come with you today—I have errands to run."

"Sure, I'll see you later at home," Haku said. "Don't get lost."

Hatsuharu pedaled off on his bike.

_Hatsuharu_

I chuckled as I rode away. I heard Tori tell Kho in a defeated tone that, yes, she would help him study for the math test. Kho never failed to entertain, although he could, without a doubt, be extremely annoying. Many times I'd mulled over the odd group that we formed—me, Haku, Ahame Khosure, and Zhuruth Hotohori. It just sometimes struck me that we seemed to be attracted to each other because we were all misfits in some way. Well, strictly speaking, Kho and Tori were Haku's friends first, and that's saying something, because Haku is not easy to become friends with. He intimidates students because he has a wild feel about him. Almost like he would snap at someone if he or she threatened him. Heh, he's been plenty threatened by Asheno.

Even so, I still sense that he's not telling me everything. We are practically brothers—we have grown up in the same house together since we were babies. It's so frustrating not being able to tell what he's thinking during his dark moments because I want to ease the heavy thoughts he clearly has. I can tell they're heavy because I've seen his eyes become shadowed with…eh, I'm not sure…anger and despair, I think. Kho and Tori see it, too. None of us can figure out where those looks come from.

The four of us may be very close friends, but there are so many secrets twisting themselves around the bonds that connect us. Haku and I never talk about our home lives with Kho and Tori (or anyone else, but that goes without saying). Asheno's made it clear that we'll suffer if we do so. Come to think of it, Kho and Tori also don't talk much about their home lives, either. I know that Kho lives with an older woman who's his guardian, but I don't know anything about his parents or other relatives. Tori is the youngest of three girls, and I gather she doesn't get much attention. Maybe that's why we're all such good friends—because we're all hiding things about our families.

It's also weird that we're all so good-looking. Really, Tori's absolutely stunning, Khosure positively glimmers, Haku could be a model. We look nothing like the average Hothan. The average Hothan would be shorter and well-built, with long, thin faces, light skin, brown eyes, and dirty blonde or black hair (always straight hair). Then here we were—me with black hair below a thick, untamable upper layer of white hair, gray eyes, and very tall; Haku with bluish-black hair, a skin tone just leaning towards olive; Tori with her red hair, incredibly green eyes, and unusual height; and finally, Kho, the strangest of us all, with silver hair, gold eyes, white skin, and a willowy, slender body.

In the middle of my musing I looked up and saw a beat-up sign saying, "Ghane Alley." The buildings around me had flaking paint and patches in the walls. Damn, this was not Sonu Street, where I could buy some snacks for entrance exam cramming. Thanks to my less-than-fantastic sense of direction, I'd ended up in one of the poor areas of Lhasa. Of course, I could've also been concentrating better.

I turned around, when I heard, "Hey, kid, my friend wants to talk to ya." I saw the barrel of a gun pointed towards me.

It was raining and dark when I finally made my way home, to the large Shoma compound. I left my bike in the vestibule of Asheno's spacious house.

"Hatsuharu, I was getting worried," Haku said. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just got lost again." I laughed, trying to keep him from worrying. He narrowed his eyes after hearing the false ring in my laugh. "Really," I said.

"Hmmm…all right. I'm going to go up and study. Asheno's in bed sick today, so there won't be trouble today."

"Good. I'll join you for studying later." Haku ran up the stairway.

I went to my small room and put on dry clothes. I'd gotten sopping wet, navigating my way back home on the bike. Eventually, a kind stranger directed me to a bus station; I'd somehow gotten to the other side of Lhasa from home. It'd taken me two hours to get home, and it was past dinnertime.

I turned my portable TV on to the news channel. A few minutes might help me settle down enough to think clearly. Why the hell couldn't I remember what happened at Ghane Alley? Surely I'd remember an encounter with a gun-toting mugger…

The anchorwoman talked about the usual things: the gang problem in Shiwa, a mountain town near Lhasa, corruption in the Hothan government. Then the local news: "An hour ago in the Ghunene district, police officers found two adult men dead in Ghane Alley. These men were killed with blows to the head. The police are uncertain about whether the blows were made by another individual or by something else, because their heads had been crushed hard enough to cause brain material to leak out their ears…"

"Haku…" my voice dead, "I need to talk to you."

The newswoman droned on. "An average man, even with the help of a weapon, would lack the strength for causing such an impact…"

**Chapter 2**

Today the rain continued, falling in large, relaxed drops. Thankfully the temperature had stayed warm, and the stormy winds that so often swept through Lhasa in the spring were absent. Weather was a serious matter in Hoth, particularly in the lands east of the mountains and the south. Western Hoth had more temperate weather, but a lot of rain. For eight out of twelve months in the year, citizens of Lhasa bundled up. Snow and ice were not the biggest weather concern—cold temperatures were. To be sure, Hoth had plenty of snow and icestorms. But because Lhasa was in the northern half of Hoth, its temperatures were slightly warmer than those of cities and towns in the south. Thus Lhasa was spared the brunt of the snowstorms, and became the trading and legislative center of Hoth. Its port and airports remained open all year, allowing easy access to Gogotha in the north and Zi Alda over the sea to the east.

Further south, winter lasted all year. There, the Ghobrin Ice held sway. A vast plain of ice sheets, crevasses, and blinding snow, the Ghobrin Ice delineated a new definition for "inhospitable." No one who had entered the Ice had ever returned. As a result, Hothans only had the vaguest idea of what lay beyond the Gateway, a natural entrance to the Ice formed by two enormous pillars of rock and ice leaning against each other. On either side of the Gateway, jagged ridges rose out of the ground, barring entry to the Ice.

Southern Hoth had a rich legacy of storytelling that revolved around the Ice—stories of wind gods, snow monsters, and the famed ice bird, which held the Ghobrin Ice as its dominion, and fed on the misery of Hothans. Mothers in Lhose, a small city forty miles north of the Ice, the nearest outpost of civilization, regularly used threats of the Ice's legendary monsters to check misbehaving children. Many of the stories involved regular people—doomed lovers who committed suicide by walking into the Ice, or explorers who discovered paradise beyond the Gateway and never returned. Of course, no one actually believed the latter—when such a story was told, the listeners pictured grisly images of death by freezing in their imaginations.

Immediately north of the Ice was a flat, barren plateau. If one traveled another twenty miles or so in the same direction, the land became hilly again. One mountain stood out among the hills—Thika Mountain. It was not as large as the mountains in the range that divided Hoth in half, but it was as famous as the Ghobrin Ice, and occupied as much space in Hothan legend as the Ice. An outsider looking at Thika might think at first, that unlike the Ice, it was much more accessible. However, the outsider would change his or her mind after a longer look. Tough-looking grass, yellow in some spots, covered the mountain. Slate-grey rocks poked through in several areas. The black silhouettes of thin trees carrying mazes of lifeless branches dotted the mountain, their trunks unnaturally twisted. A depressed wind caused a sad rustling among the branches. One had the feeling that he or she was looking upon the graveyard of a once-proud country's hopes.

Once, hundreds of years ago, before the perpetual winters had set upon Hoth and Hothan marketplaces buzzed with stories of the latest scandals among the royalty, this had been the home of the original flame trees. The flame trees that had been so beloved for the bright scarlet blossoms, stubbornly blooming for six months out of the year to spite weather that would ruthlessly shrivel lesser plants. Hothans have always valued resilience, and colors that brighten up the harsh landscape. For these reasons, the flame trees were treated with a special reverence, and carefully cultivated to grow in other parts of Hoth. A tradition developed of giving brides a hairpiece made of a real flame tree blossom that had fallen from the tree at long last. Such hairpieces were believed to be the old gods' blessing for the marriage.

According to old legends, Thika Mountain was home to the 26 gods of the Hothan calendar cycle. It was said that as long as the head god, the Kirin, the male unicorn, cultivated the flame trees on Thika Mountain, Hoth would be ruled well and prosper. The kings and queens of Hoth made yearly pilgrimages to Thika to pay their respects to the Kirin and the other gods, but especially the Kirin.

One year the blossoms never appeared, and flame trees outside of Thika did not bloom as well. The royal family fell, and Hoth was plunged into a bloody dark age that lasted a hundred years. The older people believed that the Kirin had forsaken them, and the younger people blamed the government for letting the country fall into crisis. During the dark age, all the records were destroyed. All that remains are the stories that were passed down during the centuries. Over time, the stories mutated until they had become legends, and each region developed several different versions of the same story. It is impossible to tell which stories are the originals, and which ones have any truth in them. Official Hothan history does not begin until the end of the dark age. Anything before that belongs to the "Realm of the Wind," as Hothans call the pre-dark age period.

Not a single blossom has been seen on any flame tree for five hundred years. Yet, none of the seemingly dead flame trees have been cut down, due to an old reverence, and perhaps, a wistful hope that they will bloom again someday.

Such thoughts eluded the minds of Hatsuharu, Khosure and Hotohori as they talked in the lunchroom of their school. Indeed, most Hothans would never think about the tragedy of the flame trees, instead concentrating on their daily lives. Haku was an exception. He couldn't put it into words, but something had been happening within him since he first heard the haunting song so long ago. An indescribably old presence stirred, one that bound Haku irrevocably to the "Realm of the Wind," to the past, present and future of the Shoma family, whose history in Hoth went as far back as anyone could remember.


	2. Chapter 4

Ferocia--thanks for the lovely review! Here's more...

As always, I'm happy to get reviews!

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns Fruits Basket, and anything else you recognize isn't mine.

**Chapter 4**

Asheno leaned forward, his pale, drawn face catching the light from the fading sun in the spacious window. Haku remained standing in the middle of the room, and he met Asheno's eyes squarely. For a few minutes, nothing changed.

The gears turned in Haku's mind. The previous times Asheno had summoned him, Asheno was usually angry, trying to make Haku become his virtual slave (as far as Haku could tell), or else he fell into ranting at Haku about his "strangeness." This was usually accompanied by the random throwing or smashing of objects, which normally consisted of expensive, antique china, or fragile statuettes. Occasionally he hurled a chair or a lamp. This time, though, Asheno's face betrayed no expression. He seemed positively…calm. The air rested heavily on everything in the room, adding an oppressiveness to the room. Mentally shaking off the feeling of foreboding, Haku grit his teeth. I will never submit to your will, Asheno, he thought, and intensified his glare.

Asheno's colorless lips curled upwards. "Now, whatever is that look for? You act as though you expect me to throw something at you," he chastised Haku in a semi-mocking tone.

What? Never had Asheno spoken to Haku like this. Haku stood motionless as a statue, refusing to show any reaction to Asheno's words.

"My, still so defiant. And I hoped I could speak with you rationally. At the very least, you should treat your generous guardian with a little more gratefulness." A look of playful consternation.

"What do you want!" slipped out of Haku before he could control himself. Asheno, pleased at Haku's reaction, chuckled.

"I merely felt it was time to set a few things straight. For example, I thought I should explain to you why you and Hatsuharu are under my guardianship." Asheno paused, and took a sip of water from the endtable next to the chaise. "You and Hatsuharu are afflicted with a curse that select members of the Shoma family have had to endure for over 500 years. Yes, I believe this year will be the 516th anniversary of the Dzuni curse." A delicate hand smoothed the folds of his deep blue robe. "I presume that you do know what the Dzuni are, don't you? Don't tell me I've wasted money on your schooling."

Bristling, Haku nodded tersely. Of course, everyone in Hoth knew what the Dzuni were. The Dzuni made up the astrological cycle that formed the basis of the Hothan calendar. There were 12 Dzuni: each a different animal with a month assigned to each one. The exception was the 13th Dzuni, the cat, who was an outcast. The other 12 Dzuni were the rat, dog, rabbit, dragon, snake, pig, bird, sheep, cow, monkey, horse, and tiger. Asheno was succeeding in insulting Haku, but Haku had to see if Asheno would continue. If he angered Asheno by lashing back, Asheno would most likely have a tantrum.

"The curse is as follows: thirteen members of the Shoma family are possessed by the spirits of the Dzuni. Each person then takes on some of the physical features, personality traits, and behavioral tendencies of whichever spirit possesses him or her. You, Haku, are possessed by the dog—therefore, you have black hair, darker skin, and keen senses of smell and hearing, among others. Hatsuharu is possessed by the cow, hence his black and white hair and calm demeanor.

"But that is not all of the curse. When a member of the opposite sex hugs a cursed Shoma, that Shoma transforms into his or her animal. The Dzuni also transform when they are ill or their bodies become weak."

Oh, though Haku, but that doesn't happen to me or Hatsuharu. Although it does explain the time Asheno ordered some serving girl to just hug Hatsuharu…he must've been trying to confirm that Hatsuharu would transform into a cow. Wait, if there are 13 Dzuni, that means there are others like me and Hatsuharu somewhere…

"Yes, there are 11 other Dzuni." Asheno smiled as he saw the look of fear momentarily cross Haku's face. "And your friends Khosure and Hotohori are indeed among them. Soon they shall join you here."

"No!" How did Asheno know about Kho and Tori? The last thing Haku wanted was for them to be dragged into Asheno's spiral of misery.

"Yes," dragging out the sibilant, "they should rejoin their brethren and god, it is only right."

"God?"

"I am the god of the Dzuni."

"What? You're insane. You always have been."

"Another component of the curse—a fourteenth person acts as ruler of the Dzuni. The Dzuni god lives a life of misery and illness, only to die young, usually before age 25."

"How can that be? You must be at least 50. That's not young."

"I would've died, if the curse hadn't been broken. Or so they thought…the former members of the Dzuni. But I found out the curse would return, and bided my time until the new Dzuni began to arrive."

It was too much for Haku. One thought tripped over another. There were so many things wrong with this—Asheno's description of the Dzuni curse didn't fit Haku and the others well enough. This must've been the curse he kept hearing about in his visions and dreams, but it was different. Damned if he would bow to Asheno. Asheno, his god, the very idea! If Asheno was his guardian, what had happened to his parents? Or Hatsuharu's, for that matter?

As if on cue, a voice inside his head screamed in agony.

"Asheno, where is my son? Where are the children?" More crying, from several people at once. And all the while, a quiet, demonic laughter in the background. Shellshocked, Haku fell to his knees, trying to process everything he'd just heard.

"I realized all of this may be a bit much right now," Asheno smiled sweetly. "But I do sincerely hope we develop a more understanding relationship, now that you know your proper place."

Haku wasn't listening—not to Asheno, at least. The barrage of voices continued, "Where is my daughter? What have you done with her, you miserable, sadistic loony?" Then a cool voice, much like Asheno's now, responded: "My advice is for you to go on with your lives. Your children are now my concern, not yours. Now leave, all of you."

"Where are the others?" Haku asked, jerked out of his reverie.

"The others?" Asheno paused for a moment. "Oh, you mean your compatriots in the curse. They are living with foster families elsewhere. If I'd kept all of them here, it would have caused…suspicion. I just decided to keep you and Hatsuharu. You, I find particularly fascinating, even if you are impossible."

Suspicion among the people whose voices he'd just heard begging Asheno for their children. So, mused Haku, maybe his parents had been among those agonized voices. Still, it seemed more likely that his parents…no, he would not let that little fear surface…

"Our parents…"

"I would forget them if I were you, Haku," Asheno cut him off. "From now on, I am your only concern."

"No, I refuse to worship you as a god or whatever people under the curse did," blurted Haku. "How do you even know that I or Hatsuharu or anyone else have the same curse? We don't match its description!"

"Quiet! I will not have—" Asheno sat up, his calm expression quickly giving way to anger.

"For instance, if you're a god, doesn't that mean you should know how to control us? But clearly you don't, if you let a five-year-old knock you out—"

"Shut up!" A glass decanter narrowly missed Haku's head and smashed on the wall behind him. "Get out!"

"Gladly!" Haku leapt to his feet and stomped to the door. "Good night, god," he sneered. He shut the door in time to hear a plate crash into it.

Shortly after, Hatsuharu arrived home. Rhena immediately greeted him with, "Master Asheno summoned Haku for a talk, and it went badly as usual. Haku's in the kitchen, very upset. I gave him some hot chocolate, but you should go see him."

Haku, you idiot, thought Hatsuharu, as he made his way to the spacious kitchen area. You should have waited for me.

Hatsuharu finally found Haku slumped over a small carving table in a corner of a side kitchen, his hot chocolate untouched. The kitchen area was actually made up of several kitchens, with one great kitchen in the center, and smaller kitchens and storerooms branching off from the main kitchen. Such a huge kitchen complex was needed to accommodate all the preparations required for the family gathering at the New Year's feast, which could have as many as 600 people attending. The Shoma family tree had many, many branches on it.

Awkwardly placing his muscular body on a tiny stool, Hatsuharu sat next to Haku. But before he could start consoling or scolding Haku, Hatsuharu watched in dismay as Haku broke down sobbing. When Haku calmed down, he spilled forth the entire story of what had happened between him and Asheno. At the end, Hatsuharu sat stunned and silent.

"If I could run away from this place," growled Haku, "I would! But I have no one else besides you, and it would've caused too much trouble for Kho and Tori, not to mention Asheno would've caught them. And now I have a chance to find out why we're so weird, but Asheno doesn't really understand who-or what- we are, and besides, all he cares about is getting us to submit to him. He really is a lunatic! An evil bastard! Why? Why does this happen to us? Are we even human?" Haku pounded his fists on the table with each invective.

As suddenly as he'd begun, Haku stopped yelling. A cold draft passed through him, and moving black streaks of air blurred his vision.

"Oohhh…shit," gasped Hatsuharu, eyes wide open as he saw a wolf's head, jaws open revealing sharp, gleaming fangs and a lolling red tongue, fly out of Haku's torso. The wolf moved in a graceful arc over the table, to land, soundlessly, on the floor across from them. Neither teenager moved a muscle as they watched the wolf turn and face them. The wolf's fur was shaggy, long, and a dark gray color that was just shy of black, the same as Haku's hair. His head would've reached Haku's hip, and he was as long as a lion. The wolf stood, panting and slavering. However, at this moment, Haku and Hatsuharu paid attention only to his eyes. They were not normal eyes. In the place of definable pupils and eye whites, there was a bright scarlet glow. Both boys jumped as the wolf suddenly twitched violently and began gnawing on a hind leg.

"It's a demon, isn't it?" whispered Hatsuharu.

"That came out of me?" Haku said.

The wolf looked at Haku, then growled. The growl reverberated through the diminutive room, making the very air vibrate.

So this is what's been inside me all that time, Haku thought. He felt his courage returning.

"Wolf…" he began, in a slightly shaky voice.

"Shh! Are you crazy?" Hatsuharu whispered furiously.

"Be quiet!" Haku reprimanded. "Wolf…ghost wolf, can you understand me?"

The wolf stopped chewing on its leg and straightened up, looking at Haku with interest.

"It's okay, we won't do anything to you," Haku said, thinking, "As if we could do anything if it decided to attack."

The door banged open.

"Oh, hello, Master Haku and…oh, what's this?" said a young serving girl.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed both Haku and Hatsuharu, as the wolf lunged for the girl.

"AAIIIEE—" the girl was cut off in midscream as the wolf's teeth sank into her neck.


	3. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns Fruits Basket, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 5**

The arrival of the ghost wolf meant that the true nature of the dzuni curse, unknown to Asheno, had finally started to awaken after being manifested in a tamer form for five centuries. The days of the old curse were truly gone. Before long, the other members of the dzuni would feel their powers awakening more and more strongly. Until then, there were only a few more days of relative peace, and the remaining eleven outside of Haku and Hatsuharu would continue to live out their daily lives during those last few days…

Late that same afternoon, while Haku and Hatsuharu were facing down the ghost wolf, Ahame Khosure took the bus to the Ghunene district, twenty minutes away from Mhagenu School. The Ghunene district was the skid row of Lhasa, where all the prostitutes, hopeless drunks, and bitter people in dead-end jobs lived. The residential areas provided a sharp counterpoint to the spacious homes with large yards in the more affluent areas of Lhasa. Here, the "homes" were really nothing more than dilapidated, oversized concrete and wooden one-room shacks leaning on each other, as if for support. It was a miracle that the houses hadn't slid down the hills in windstorms and rainstorms.

The roads, choked with potholes, wound their way up and down the rolling hills in between rows of homes, grimy convenience stores, and sleazy bars. In Hoth, money went first to the storm maintenance of homes and buying warm clothing. The denizens of Ghunene had the minimal amount of storm maintenance and solid clothing, but little else, just enough to survive. The government wasn't doing much—the well-to-do inhabitants made sure they stayed well-to-do. The people of Ghunene had gotten more or less used to that fact of life by now.

Khosure got off the bus, and walked to his hovel a block away. He never felt out-of-place in Ghunene—there were plenty of bums who dyed their hair every color under the mountains and looked like aliens from drug and liquor abuse. Then there were the prostitutes in their gaudy outfits, standing on every corner. Khosure casually brushed off one as he turned onto the muddy track that went up to his front door. His shoes sank into the mud, and with great difficulty he made it to the flaking door. He turned the lock and the door opened with a high-pitched groan.

_Khosure_

As I walk in, what do I do but slip on an empty liquor bottle right away? I caught myself in time, but I could've broken my neck! Cook shouldn't leave bottles where people could slip and forever harm their gorgeous looks! Neck casts do not go with long, supple silver tresses such as mine.

Ah, but I am Cinderella, and Cook is my evil stepmother. Well, she wasn't evil when she first took me under her wing, when I was five. Tori always tells me to stop exaggerating, and I suppose I should practice. But I so do like exciting stories better than accurate ones. Anyway, Cook works at a subpar restaurant as a cook, hence her name, Cook. Well, I'm sure that's not her real name, but that's what I've always called her. She probably has some ugly name like Hemana, which means "hog." She's certainly fat as a hog, in any case. Oh, that's another thing Tori's always telling me to do, to stick to the point.

As I got older, Cook got unhappier and began to take to the bottle. She's never paid much attention to me, but she doesn't hit me and she feeds me well. Still, I miss the days when Dzerina took care of me. Dzerina may have been a whore, but she had a heart of gold. It was a tragedy that she died. I loved it when she dressed me up in costumes she borrowed from her friends at the whorehouse. They were a fabulous group, Dzerina and her girls. They loved my yellow eyes and silver hair—they didn't stare like most people do. We used to pretend that I was a prince from a land of silver-haired people who had accidentally been carried to Hoth by a harithe, and the girls would pretend to be my subjects, and Dzerina would relay my "orders" to them. I don't see the girls anymore; new management took over their establishment.

I tossed the empty bottle with a perfect flip of the wrist onto a pile of others next to the door. My shoes were absolutely soaked in icky mud—off with them! Then I walked into my room. Our house has two rooms, luxurious by Ghunene standards. But my room really isn't big enough for someone of my tastes. A camp cot and a rickety bookshelf. That's all. The shame, that a prince should have to suffer this!

I dropped my bookbag on one end of the cot, sat down, and wriggled my treasure chest out from underneath the cot. My treasure chest has my most prized possessions—a picture of Mother, my sewing kit, some embroidered swaths of silk, and my pair of snakes.

"Hello, Mother, how are you? It's a positively dreary day outside! So rainy, and I nearly sank up to my knees in the mud…and I nearly died when I slipped on one of Cook's bottles!"

I always talk to Mother for a few minutes every day. The picture is a photograph of a little girl in a red satin dress, which I fortuitously discovered one day in a park when I was eight. The girl has silver hair and yellow eyes like me, and I'm certain she's my mother. I always look for someone with silver hair and yellow eyes whenever I'm out in the city. Someday we shall have a joyous reunion, and I shall go live in a castle and live happily ever after with her and introduce her to Tori, Haku, and Hatsuharu, my dearest friends in all of Hoth, Gogotha and Zi Alda. But until I live in a castle, I'm not letting any of my friends see this place or Cook or her empty bottles.

My sewing kit is my arsenal of weapons against wear and tear. If I may say so, I am quite proficient at mending and patching my uniforms, coat, and three robes. Sometimes, an idiot throws out a stray bit of silk or beautifully colored fabric, usually from the windows of whorehouses, and I pick them up and practice my embroidery and stictches on them. I would dearly love enough money to buy a length of cloth big enough to make a hekasho, a traditional Hothan robe. I have just the color in mind…I am absolutely certain that a rich red would be gorgeous with my hair and eyes. I shall go into the tailoring profession after high school.

Then I have my darling little snakes, She and Ku. I created She out of some silver satin, and sewed on some old amber buttons as eyes. I've always like snakes, and I really can't say why. I made Ku as a companion for She, who was devastatingly lonely, what with my long hours at school and socializing with my dear friends.

"She and Ku, someday we won't live in a hellish pit overflowing with bottles. We shall live in a castle. Oh, dear, I suppose I should start studying, I couldn't bear facing Tori and telling her I'd neglected our mean old math teacher's dreadfully oppressive assignments…"


	4. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns Fruits Basket, and anything else you recognize isn't mine.

**Chapter 6**

The contrast between Khosure's and Hotohori's houses could not have been greater. Hotohori's family, the Zhuruths, lived in the Mhagenu district, the same neighborhood as the Shoma compound. The Zhuruth home was only three blocks away from Mhagenu School, and it was modern and comfortably large. On every side of the Zhuruths were the homes of prominent Lhasa lawyers, businessmen and administrators. Inhabitants of the poorer neighborhoods called it "Maginu", "the corrupt pit." Many of these same businessmen and administrators had cheated them out of secure jobs, health care and education.

All the more reason for Hotohori to despise her home. Generally she spent as much time as she could on various school activities, such as student government and studying in the library, or having a drink with her friends. The less time at home, the better, she figured. That way, the chances of having to listen to Mother and Father's close friend, the banker from next door, brag about the latest deal he'd made which would prevent a "certain class"—wealthy Lhasans always used euphemisms for the poor—from being able to take out loans, were not as great.

Granted, Hotohori had other, more personal, reasons for avoiding home.

_Hotohori_

"Now, my dear Hirini, it is up to the members of the less motivated third of society to improve their standing. Such a responsibility shouldn't fall on the government's shoulders," intoned a man's baritone.

Inwardly I cringed as I stepped over the front threshold. The banker Nhase Lhu, our next-door-neighbor, was having hot cocoa with Mother in the sitting room. Maybe I could walk by without notice. I had more important things to do than exchanging mechanical niceties with the true scum of Lhasa. The door slammed shut before I could stop it. Alas, fate was against me.

"The girl Hotohori must be home," declared Mother. "Hotohori, come here and wish Mr. Nhase a good afternoon."

Resignedly, my leaden feet trudged over to the sitting room.

"Good afternoon, Mother, good afternoon, Mr. Nhase." I said, mustering all the formality I could and bowing slightly to Nhase. Nhase Lhu had, if possible, gained more weight since the last time I spoke to him a month ago. His suit strained to hold in the surplus flesh, and he completely filled the armchair.

"Hm, you're right, Hirini. She's not as pretty as your older daughters. She's adopted, correct?" Nhase Lhu frowned. "And such an unusual name."

"That's right, Lhu," Mother replied cheerily. "That reminds me—no, Hotohori, stay and listen to this—I just received a letter from my darling Dzana." Dzana, my parents' most beloved child, and one of my two hated elder sisters. Dzana, thirteen years older, the perfect daughter, now working as a high-level educational administrator in Rhenigroth, the largest city in western Hoth—evidence of an amazing mind, imagine, in such a position at such a young age, as my mother repeatedly gushed to everyone she met. Because Dzana was so much older than me, and our lives were so different that we hardly ever saw each other. By the time I was five years old, she was eighteen and already in high school.

Rheza, however, proved to be another story altogether. Only six years older than me, we spent considerably more time together as young children. Unfortunately for me, she was the perfect manipulator. She behaved as an angel towards Mother and Father, and exploited their spoiling her to get everything she wanted. Whenever she caused trouble in the house, she always framed me. Since Mother and Father were lukewarm towards me to begin with, it was easy for Rheza to make them favor her over me. I would always be "that girl Hotohori," never "my darling daughter." When Rheza was in middle and high school, everybody knew that she had drug problems and hung out with the worst crowd, except for Mother and Father. They remained completely blind to her "issues."

Rheza now lives in Hareth, so I don't have to see her anymore, thank goodness. Mother tells everyone that Rheza is "a vital contributor to the artistic community in Hareth," which, if it were true, would be very impressive. But as far as I can tell, Rheza contributes to the artists' community by sleeping with every male artist. And possibly a few female ones, too. She's too out of it to notice the difference.

Instead of listening to Mother and Nhase Lhu discuss Dzana's potential for sainthood, I turned inward to my own thoughts. Looking out the window, I saw that it was still raining. I hoped the temperature would stay warm—whenever it snows, I'm afflicted with a deep depression. Not if it's snowing in the regular, stormy way; in that case I'd be depressed for over half the year. No, only when big, gentle flakes are slowly falling, a relatively rare occurrence for Lhasa. I've pored through the mental health dictionaries trying to find out why, but nothing makes sense. None of the symptoms for seasonal affective disorder match, I have no traumatic experience with snow…

It's a problem I've had since childhood. When the snow depression strikes me, I still go through my daily routine, although that often means using every bit of strength to overcome the lethargy and constant urge to cry. Snow depressions leave me completely exhausted at the end. Mother and Father never really notice them, except to tell me to stop looking more miserable than usual. Only my close friends, Haku, Kho and Hatsuharu, really understand the depth of snow depression's effect on me. They do their best to cheer me up, as they also do whenever I have one of my lung attacks.

The second of my two mysterious conditions—roughly every other months, I feel a burning sensation develop in my chest, and my lungs tighten and make it difficult for me to breathe, as though they were filled with thick smoke. During these attacks I'm bedridden, and I sometimes wish I would die so I didn't have to endure the pain. I'm also afraid that the next attack will be the last—that I will die. They have been getting more frequent lately. The last one was only two weeks ago, and the one before that, five weeks ago. Each one lasts longer, too—before, they were only a day, but now they stretch to two or three days of horrible pain. And naturally no known medicine works. I wish Haku, Kho and Hatsuharu didn't have to worry so about me, especially when I'm so concerned about them.

"Hotohori, are you listening?" snapped Mother. "I'm reading Dzana's letter, you know."

"Yes, Mother, I'm sorry," I replied robotically, an automatic look of contrition crossing my face. Oh, I can't wait to leave "Maginu." Perhaps I'll move to Gogotha, far away from everyone in my family.

But that still leaves the three boys. Just recently I noticed the numerous patches on Kho's clothing. He hasn't said a word about his home life, but I strongly suspect his situation isn't good at all. I wish I'd noticed earlier. He's so upbeat, and I will admit, he does cheer me up even if he drives me nearly insane sometimes. Kho has such a dramatic soul. Then Haku, who's been more preoccupied than usual, and Hatsuharu being so worried…both of them are clearly hiding something. Not to mention, on top of all this, the four of us don't look like normal Hothans. Our common bond.

"Hotohori, if you won't pay attention, go find something useful to do," ordered Mother, annoyed that I didn't put a top priority on listening to Dzana's revelatory writings.

Ecstatic for the opportunity to get away, I hurriedly said good-bye to Mother and Nhase Lhu and left. ("Such a rude girl, and ungrateful!" I heard Nhase Lhu pronounce before I'd stepped out the door.)

Flopping onto my bed, I pulled out an old favorite book from the shelf next to my bed. I figured I'd read a little, take my mind off things and relax. As my head hit the pillow, I felt the all-too-familiar heat building up in my lungs.


	5. Chapter 7

All right, some more characters from the original FB make cameos here! Here's the list of changed names: HukiYuki, LhoruTohru, ShehureShigure (he's one of my fave characters, by the way)

Disclaimer: I have it memorized now! FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, dum de dum dum, and anything else you recognize isn't mine.

**Chapter 7**

No one in the class noticed that Haku and Hatsuharu had bloodshot eyes the next day. The night before, they'd stayed up until the early morning hours dealing with aftermath of the ghost wolf's unintentional murder of yet another servant, right in front of their own eyes. The servant had had no chance; the wolf crushed her windpipe on his very first bite.

"Wolf, get back inside me NOW!" Haku whispered desperately as he heard the sound of running footsteps towards the kitchen. The wolf vanished within that moment, and Haku felt the cold draft as the wolf rejoined his body. The door swished open and Rhena entered, followed by three or four others.

'What hap—OH MY GOD! Not again!" exclaimed Rhena in horror as she took in the girl lying in a pool of blood and the boys' terrified expressions.

"A curse lies upon this house," murmured an older woman, trying to revive a younger servant who'd fainted.

"You're more right than you'll ever know," Haku said. Rhena and the servants didn't hear.

The house was still in chaos, and the two boys had been glad to go to school to escape from the servants' terror and Asheno's questions. Luckily, the servants believed that Haku and Hatsuharu had just been unsuspecting witnesses, and Haku had managed to dodge Asheno's questions about the wolf's appearance by citing extreme exhaustion. At that point, it wasn't even a lie.

"I don't want Asheno knowing the truth about the ghost until I find out more about it," Haku told Hatsuharu.

So they now sat at their desks, eyes barely open. Khosure flew into the room.

"Haku! Hara!" he cried, grabbing Hatsuharu's shoulder, "Tori's got one of those attacks again."

"Already?" Haku said. Khosure nodded, unsmiling and worried for once.

"It's like the old Hothan saying," sighed Hatsuharu. He was referring to a pessimistic old proverb from the Hareth area: "When a heavy rain has drowned flowers, expect mudslides that shall topple trees, then avalanches that shall crush the very rocks."

_Haku_

The ceiling remained refreshingly unchanging as I stared at it from my bed minute after minute. Of course, it could demonically cave in upon me. I laughed at the macabre thought. For now, I just needed to gather the remnants of my sanity. The ghost wolf, Asheno, poor Tori…

My body is harboring a ghost wolf, with frighteningly real teeth and claws, that has killed two people already. Maybe the death toll is higher—it could've been wandering around Lhasa since I was born. No...gory deaths are publicized to no end, and we would've seen it on TV or in the newspaper. Still, those girls didn't deserve to die. Hatsuharu's already done a number on me about how I'm not responsible, I had no awareness of the ghost, and I shouldn't feel guilty. But they shouldn't have died. Hatsuharu shouldn't have to comfort the girl's family. Thank heaven Asheno was sick tonight. At least one thing had gone right today.

"If anyone deserves to die, Asheno is the one," I said to myself. No, even so, I'd rather not kill. Put aside the fact that I don't even know if the wolf would obey anything I say, letting Asheno wallow in his own pathetic misery is by far a superior revenge. Yes…let him die a despised man. A slow, painful death…a smile crept over my face as I imagined the possibilities. Then I remembered the girls. Hmm, I owed it to them to see whether I could gain better control of the ghost.

"Ghost wolf." Sitting up on my bed, I spoke softly, so anybody passing by my room wouldn't hear. The servants already wonder if I'm being driven to insanity by Asheno—hearing me hold a conversation with a ghost would convince them. "Can you hear me?" What was I thinking? Was it even capable of understanding Hothan?

"Please, come out. I want to see you for a little bit." In response, the cold draft passed through me. This time, instead of passing directly out of my body, the wolf walked out of the wall next to me, and jumped to the floor from the bed. It looked at me, then began chewing on a foreleg. Numerous bald patches revealed scarred skin underneath the fur. Matted fur and dried blood completed the shambles.

I just felt sad looking at the creature in front of me. This was part of myself, and it was a mess. Perhaps a reflection of my own mental state.

"Faran-Zhuku…" I began, "it is all right if I keep calling you Faran-Zhuku, isn't it, until I figure out your real name?" Faran-Zhuku let go of his foreleg. The fiery eyes met mine. Before, when shock and fear gripped me, I saw only the eyes of a demon. Now I saw the eyes of a soul driven to insanity by suffering. From being locked up for so long, because of the old curse…

"Well, that gives us something in common," I wryly remarked. "I don't respond well to being leashed either. But I'd rather not end up chewing on my own leg."

Faran-Zhuku settled into a sitting position, one ear cocked. Except for the excessive salivating and glimpses of jagged fangs, he could've almost looked friendly.

So far, so good. Maybe I'd be able to learn something.

"Faran-Zhuku, could you tell me anything about the family curse? If you know anything about it. If you can't talk, maybe you could show me a vision—one that's more complete than the ones I've seen?" Assuming that Faran-Zhuku had instigated the visions and voices was going out on a limb, but it felt natural that he and my visions were related.

My head jerked as the jarring, deep broken voice echoed through my skull.

**"Listen…Look…"**

The grass was soft and thick under my feet. I stood in a small clearing in the midst of a forest. In front of me was a cheap-looking tent, and a footpath beyond it. The sun had risen an hour or so ago, and its warmth brightened the scene.

"This looks familiar to me," I said, out aloud. The clearing…I'd seen it before, but the visions had never been so perfectly clear as it now was. Perhaps I'd experienced a sort of "awakening" of my senses when I finally knew Faran-Zhuku lived inside me.

**"Quiet…Look…"** So that was the voice of Faran-Zhuku. It would take some getting used to. I'd twitched violently. Didn't seem as though Faran-Zhuku could talk too well…I wished he sounded a little more pleasant.

Something flapped, and I saw a high-school girl, perhaps a freshman, wearing the green uniform of Karori High School. She had long brownish-black hair, wide, endearing brown eyes, and a short, thin body. She tripped.

"Whoops! Oh, a beautiful day! I love warm days in Lhasa!" she exclaimed, brushing off her tousled knee-length skirt. "Usually the weather is so terrible."

She hadn't tried to live in that tent during storms, had she? passed through my mind disbelievingly. Then again, she didn't strike me as the brightest person, either. Although she exuded an aura of kindness, the sort that one rarely sees.

It dawned on me. "I remember her!" I suddenly became quiet, thinking she'd heard me. She hadn't, so I assumed that I was invisible and unheard. "That's that girl, what was her name…Lhoru." A member of the Shoma family, I'd conjectured. But what was she doing in a tent in the middle of a forest?

"I have a little time before school, a walk would be lovely," Lhoru decided. She turned right on the footpath.

**"Idiot…follow girl!"**

"OK, I will. But you make me sound like a stalker!" I protested, following Lhoru. She walked down the path for about five minutes, then the path opened onto a larger clearing. A well-sized house with two stories and a large outdoor deck appeared before us. The familiar barren flame tree stood by its entrance. Definitely a Shoma residence—all the affluent Shoma houses had flame trees in their yards. Whose house this was, I couldn't recall.

Lhoru, overtaken by curiosity, walked onto the front deck, where two rows of rocks had been set out. Peering over her shoulder, I saw twelve shiny stones, varying in color from iridescent black to an earthy red, engraved with the animals of the Dzuni. No stone for the cat, which would make it the full thirteen. When did Faran-Zhuku plan to give me a real explanation about the curse and everything else?

**"Not talk…good…want you…see…" **rumbled through my brain.

"What have we here? A visitor, and a lovely young lady no less!" came a man's voice from around the corner of the front deck. Lhoru leapt as the man, maybe twenty-five or so, stepped towards her. I recognized him—the adult version of the little boy I'd seen in my very first vision. The one who was determined to find happiness and break the curse. He looked just like me now. I noticed he was wearing a light blue hekasho, just as I preferred to do when lounging at home. The Hothan hekashos were so much more comfortable to me than pants and shirts. Hekashos didn't strangle me.

The girl jerked when she saw the man approaching her.

"Oh! Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to trespass—I was just taking a walk and I saw these lovely stones…" she blubbered in a panic, waving her arms.

"Relax, relax, it's all right," said the man, with a big smile and a gleam of playfulness and interest in his puppy-dog eyes. "Yes, these Dzuni stones are lovely, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes! But I see the cat isn't among them."

"The cat?" His eyebrows went up. "Ah, so you know about the cat…"

"Yes!" Lhoru nodded vigorously. "My mother used to tell me the story of the Dzuni all the time." She then proceeded to tell the story, although what for, since the man clearly knew it. But he let her. I didn't really care; I'd heard the story only three hundred times in my life and I was only interested in finding out more about the boy from my first vision.

"A long time ago, in the Realm of the Wind," Lhoru began in earnest, her eyes looking to a faraway place, "the Sky God had just finished creating Hoth. She had molded each mountain, set the course of each river, and planted each flame tree. When the flame trees bloomed for the very first time, She created humans and animals. The humans were weak and fragile creatures; they could not fly, run swiftly, or sense danger coming before it was too late. The Sky God decided to appoint thirteen animals as protectors of the humans: the horse, the bird, the cow, the boar, the rat, the cat, the monkey, the sheep, the dragon, the snake, the rabbit, the tiger, and the dog.

"All of these animals were invited to a great council on the top of Thika Mountain, to be appointed protectors. The rat volunteered to take the cat's invitation to him, and the rat deceived the cat by telling him that the council was in two days, not one day. So the cat missed the council, spending the day playing. The rat, riding on the back of the cow, was the first to enter the council. All the animals, except the cat, became the protectors of Hoth. When the cat found out he'd been tricked, he was sorely aggrieved and swore eternal vengeance on the rat."

Lhoru's lips tightened. "I was very little the first time my mother told me that story, and I was so upset that the cat had been left out. I told my mother that from now on I would become Month of the Cat rather than Month of the Dog."

The Hothan calendar is split up into twelve months, with 25 days each, named after the Rat, Cow, Dragon, Bird, Rabbit, Horse, Boar, Tiger, Snake, Sheep, and Dog. Hothans are not known for their knowledge of astronomy; due to clouds continually covering the skies, our calendar is faulty. Every year, the lengths of the months vary considerably. However, we cling stubbornly to the old calendar, convinced it is part of our heritage from before the Dark Age.

"Really?" asked the man. "Ha ha ha…I wish I could see his reaction," he murmured. An odd expression crossed his eyes and vanished. I sensed beneath his happy exterior a person weighed down with secrets, like me. The dark shadow hanging over him…it felt all too familiar to me, even though I hardly knew him. Depressed, I realized how frustrated Hatsuharu, Tori and Kho must feel, not being able to tell where my dark aura came from. But I didn't want to burden them with the kinds of things I saw, heard, and felt.

"Excuse me?" chirped Lhoru brightly. She hadn't heard his little side comment.

"Oh, ha ha ha, it's nothing," he laughed, smiling charmingly. "I thought you were a Dog—I'm one, too. Couldn't you feel the connection?"

Inwardly I groaned. A lecher! He must've been the former Dog of the curse Asheno'd talked about. The one that Asheno was always trying to force me to emulate. Well, I'd never go after a girl like he went after Lhoru.

THWACK! "Ow!" yelped the man as a book landed squarely on his head.

"Don't act so disgracefully towards visitors," said the owner of the book, a teenage boy about Lhoru's age, also dressed in a Karori uniform. He was only a little taller than Lhoru, and his body was slender. His feminine face (bearing a disconcerting resemblance to Asheno's features, I noticed) was framed by dark gray hair, and round purple eyes glared at the older man.

"Huki," the older man whined, rubbing his throbbing head, "can't you tell when people are just playing?"

Huki's glare only hardened, then he softened as he turned to Lhoru, who stood gaping at him. "Miss," Huki said, "I'm very sorry for my cousin's behavior."

"I-I-It's all right! He was being very gracious! Really!" Lhoru's arms had resumed their frantic gesticulation.

"Please, just call me Huki, Mr. Shoma is too formal," Huki reassured her.

"We haven't formally introduced ourselves," cut in the elder Shoma, bowing slightly. "My name is Shoma Shehure, I am the owner of this house and Huki's guardian."

"I am Shoma Huki, I believe we are in the same class," Huki said with a deeper bow.

"Y-yes, I remember you—my name is Mileshi Lhoru," Lhoru blushed, her face perfectly maroon, as she returned Huki's and Shehure's bows. Surely, I dryly commented to myself, she must be overwhelmed by the beauty of these men.

"Faran-Zhuku, can't you speed things up a little?" I begged, "So I can find out more about the curse?" And about Shehure. Finally, I could attach a name to the person who appeared most in my visions.

An angry growl silenced me. **"Patience…must see…all of story…"** Faran-Zhuku's language skills were returning slowly, at least. **"Take back…to your time…"**

A strong hand shook me by the shoulder. My eyes popped open to see Hatsuharu, dark rings lining his eyes, looking annoyed.

"Haku, I know things have been impossible lately," he said, "but we still need to go to school. Get up or we'll be later than we already are." He left, closing the door behind him.

I looked around the room. Faran-Zhuku was inside me for now, it seemed. So much more to learn…


	6. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **To Natsuki Takaya FB belongs, and anything you don't recognize doth not belong to me.

**Chapter 8**

School. The teacher lecturing as usual. The students, anxiously copying down notes for the high school entrance exams. Haku could barely stifle demented laughter. Sticking to his everyday routine when so many supernatural and horrible things had been happening in his life…it just seemed so macabre. Tomorrow would be the first day of the weekend. At last he would finally have some time to try to process all that had transpired. Hotohori was still ill, for the second day in a row. He should try to visit her after school today. Kho also worried him. Obviously Kho was very upset over Tori's illness, but something else was wrong, Haku suspected. Today, Kho had winced while sitting down. Then there was Asheno. He had given orders that the boys should be at home whenever the school didn't require their presence. Oh, then he wouldn't be able to see Tori. He'd call later, in that case. Haku was positive Asheno intended to corner him about the ghost wolf. For now, Haku would do his best to keep throwing Asheno off. Hatsuharu…he needed to tell Hatsuharu about last night.

On top of all that, the ghost wolf still had to be dealt with. At least now Faran-Zhuku's secrets were slowly revealing themselves to Haku. But so many questions remained: how well could he control the wolf? Could he? And the family curse—the wolf seemed determined to take his sweet time in revealing the secrets behind the curse. Finally he knew that Shoma Shehure had existed (if he was even still alive), then there were the other Dzuni members Asheno had sent away, but so many questions…For the first time in his life, Haku preferred to concentrate on his algebra problems. Even math, his worst subject, was more appealing right now than dealing with his turbulent life. And that damn song was still droning on, it hadn't stopped since midmorning…

Precisely at 4:00, when the last period ended, the Shoma family chauffeur arrived to escort the two boys homes. Kho had gone to visit Tori. Haku and Hatsuharu both entered the car with feelings of regret. At school, they had a better chance of escaping. This is a good opportunity, Haku thought, and rolled up the soundproof glass so the chauffeur couldn't eavesdrop.

"Hatsuharu," said Haku, "at home I need to tell you some things." Some things? More like everything.

Privately, Hatsuharu felt glad that Haku seemed ready to shine light on his secret workings. Really, Haku bottled his emotions too much.

"OK," nodded Hatsuharu, "Definitely, let's talk. Although it'll have to be later, because I need to deal with that girl's father. It wouldn't look good if only Rhena did." In Hoth, it was always considered suspect if a servant died under unusual circumstances and the employers did not send a representative of the family to console with the servant's family.

"Hm-mm, what do you think chances are Asheno will be sick?"

"Very likely, Asheno gets sick a lot after big events like a servant getting killed by a ghost wolf."

"You say it like it's so normal for our family," Haku started giggling. Hatsuharu stared at him, then began giggling himself.

"We must be losing our minds," Hatsuharu said when he'd calmed down.

Upon their arrival at the house, Rhena took their coats.

"You'll be happy to know Asheno is ill," she whispered to them.

"Yes!" hissed Haku.

"Oh, and Hatsuharu, Fadzula's father is here," Rhena's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "Be careful, I wouldn't be surprised if he's looking for an excuse for an investigation. It won't be a problem—all of us loved Fadzula, that poor, poor girl, she never gave me any trouble, no sir. But her father, he has that greedy look of a moneygrubber, how he could've had such a nice daughter--"

"I'll be careful, Rhena, thanks for the warning," Hatsuharu replied, rolling his eyes. How much fun this was going to be.

"You or any of the servants seen the ghost wolf lately, Rhena?" asked Haku.

"No, no, and hopefully that demon will never come here again." Haku breathed a sigh of relief.

Haku and Hatsuharu went their separate ways, Haku up the stairs to his room and Hatsuharu towards the parlor they used for receiving visitors of a lower status. In the doorway, Haku stopped and took in his room. It hadn't changed for the last few years. Small, yet comfortable, and it had a nice window overlooking the most beautiful part of the courtyard garden. The bedcovers were rumpled as always—Haku had never been a neat sleeper—and drawing paper still covered the small desk and floor. Yes, he welcomed some stability very much right now.

Haku settled into his creaky chair before the desk, and picked up an empty piece of paper and a well-worn ebony pencil. Some doodling would help him relax. After half an hour, he snapped out of his reverie and saw that he had drawn and colored dozens of unfamiliar flowers. They were all the same kind—their form resembled a smaller version of hibiscus, but the ends of the petals were pointy, almost sharp. In the center delicate, bright yellow pollen stems gently rose upwards. The center of each flower was colored orangish-yellow, extending out slightly onto each petal. The orange-yellow sections ended in uneven lines resembling the leaping of flames in a fire, giving way to a pure red. A dark crimson tinged each tip, as though the flowers were dripping blood onto the ground. Haku could only gaze at the blossoms he'd drawn, amazed. Never had he seen flowers of their kind. In his mind, "The Flame Trees of Thika" took on a louder, more glorious tone, then stopped abruptly.

**"Fire flower, beautiful, yes?"**

Faran-Zhuku lay curled on Haku's bed, almost filling the entire length of the bed, gnawing softly at a forearm. Haku gasped. He hadn't even felt Faran-Zhuku appear that time.

"You mean these…these are the flame tree blossoms of legend?" Haku asked unbelievingly, once he'd recovered.

**"Yes…beautiful, sad they not around anymore…"** Faran-Zhuku awkwardly shook his head. **"I remember them before not bloom. They not bloom because Shoma secret."**

"The Shomas are responsible for the death of the flame trees?"

**"No, trees not dead. Waiting. But Shoma little responsible, yes."**

"What happened?"

**"No, you not understand enough. Not see enough yet."**

"But I need to find out now!" yelled Haku, leaning forward. The wolf flattened his ears and growled. "But you don't understand!"

**"YOU not understand! I know what Asheno did you, did Dzunis. I lock up five hundred year. I free at last. You only fifteen."**

The wolf knew about everything Asheno had done to him. "Why did you not help me against Asheno when I was younger?" Remembering that night, when he was five, the countless other times besides.

The wolf's eyes narrowed mockingly. **"Trust me with boy five year old?"**

Haku had to concede to the wolf's point. **"I a complicated thing,"** continued the wolf, **"You know more me later. Patient."**

"I assume the same is true for the Dzuni curse?"

**"Not real curse. Different. But complicated yes, yes. Take many year fix."**

"It's not a curse?"

**"No…depend on how look. It change. Much time pass."**

"Will it ever go away and leave the Shomas in peace, to live lives as completely normal people?"

Silence, as Haku stared at the floor, fighting to keep himself under control. That last question had brought back many fears and questions he would rather forget. The wolf, for once, sat still and contemplated him quietly. Faran-Zhuku was still recovering from insanity and mental deterioration—part of the reason he'd been absent during Haku's childhood—that had built up during his long imprisonment. However, enough of his acute powers of perception remained. He could sense Haku's every thought, fear, fantasy, and subconscious emotion. This boy was tormented, had many emotional issues, but he had a strong character. Faran-Zhuku smothered the impulse to go on a murderous rampage—Haku's tumultuous thoughts were intricately interwoven with his actions. Must calm him down, Faran-Zhuku thought.

**"Haku."** The teenager raised his eyes.

**"You have one worst burdens in entire Dzuni."** There would be others, thought the wolf, but they did not yet exist in this world. Perhaps in the next generation of Shomas. **"But I impressed. You strong. Many Faran-Hat-Zhuku before lose mind, even when life more easy than you. I certain not happen you go insane. And I possess many so I know. I one hardest Dzuni to be possess. I one most dangerous. No weak man able stand me." **

Haku met the wolf's gaze squarely.

**"Stay strong. For sake Hatsuharu, Hotohori, Khosure and other. For Shoma family sake. For Hoth sake. There hope for Shoma, Hoth better future. But you must patient and learn me." **Faran-Zhuku was grateful his speech was fast improving, but this was not an undertaking to be rushed.

For a long time nothing more was said.

Then Haku asked, "Faran-Zhuku…will I continue to have visions and hear voices?"

**"Always. Part Faran-Hat-Zhuku burden. But now I free, so control little better, especially voice you hear. Least I try. Still some trouble."**

"Are you going to show me more visions like last night, you know, explaining the family history?"

**"That what I want do. Important, you have know. But I try show at night when sleep so life not intruded." **

"Fine," Haku smiled. "Thanks for trying. I guess I can't appreciate the torture you've gone through, but…you obviously know what I've gone through. I'm glad someone knows…"

Yes, thought the wolf, this one has the potential to be a great master of Faran-Hat-Zhuku. If nothing goes seriously wrong, which God knows, often happened in the Shoma family.

"I have one more question," Haku said tentatively, "is Shoma Shehure still alive?"

**"Yes." **A knock on the door.

"It's me, Haku." Hatsuharu's voice.

"Come in," Haku said.

Hatsuharu had just undergone a grueling meeting with Fadzula's father. Her father went after Hatsuharu, looking for any excuse to sue the Shomas. Disgusting, thought Hatsuharu, he didn't care about his own daughter at all. He opened the door and saw red eyes looking at him. His muscles stiffened.

"it's okay, Hatsuharu," Haku said. "Faran-Zhuku's calmed down a little. We were just talking." Hatsuharu took in Haku's red eyes. The wolf kept worrying his hindleg.

"You can talk to Faran-Zhuku?" Hatsuharu queried, keeping his eyes on the wolf as he managed to squeeze his large frame into a sitting position next to Haku's chair. The wolf chuckled to himself—Hatsuharu was a hitokiri, after all. Continuing to watch him so closely, staying near Haku to protect him—yes, Hatsuharu was doing his job, and he didn't even know it. The hitokiri, official protectors of the Dzuni.

"Yes, I can," replied Haku. "His speech isn't so good because he was imprisoned for so long. Right, Faran-Zhuku? But he's improving quickly." Haku summarized his conversation with Faran-Zhuku, while Hatsuharu never took his eyes off the ghost for one moment.

Excellent, smiled the old ghost, he's still trying to protect Haku from his own Dzuni spirit.

"Faran-Zhuku?" Hatsuharu said. The wolf didn't reply. Faran-Zhuku had used up too much of his strength talking to Haku and trying to restrain his urge to lash out at every human nearby. Oh, well, I'll talk to Hatsuharu another time, Faran-Zhuku said to himself as he phased back into Haku's body. He'll need to know about his Dzuni. But not until I'm stronger.

"I think he got too tired," said Haku. "He was really struggling to keep himself under control."

Hatsuharu only continued staring at the bed. If what the wolf had told Haku was true, then there could only be more trouble to come. Would he always be able to defend Haku against Asheno? Should he? Did the wolf know how Tori's illness could be treated?

"I have a lot of questions for that wolf," Hatsuharu said. "A lot of questions."


	7. Chapter 9

HathoriHatori. **Disclaimer:** FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya. Anything that you recognize isn't mine.

**Chapter 9**

The weekend had finally arrived. It would be anything but restful.

First thing in the morning, both Haku and Hatsuharu were required to appear before Asheno. Not in the mood for games, Asheno went straight to the point.

"Haku, I don't suppose there's any chance you'll tell me anything about the wolf?" Asheno muttered, glaring at Haku.

"I really don't know much about it." Haku tried to sound as noncommittal as possible.

"Don't insult me. I know you're the one who's been releasing it."

"Really, if you're trying to trick me into telling you all its secrets, it won't work. I don't know much about the wolf, and I can't get him to come out." Faran-Zhuku had been completely silent since he returned to Haku's body last night. Haku had had no visions, not even a note from the song.

"Haku's telling the truth," declared Hatsuharu. He'd been in Haku's room earlier, when Haku vainly tried to summon the wolf again.

"Did I ask you? Be silent," snapped Asheno. "So, Haku, you can't control the wolf. That sounds about right for my incompetent ward." The two boys exchanged quick glances. Asheno was afraid now. Maybe they could use that to their advantage.

"Anyway," Asheno coughed, shifting his position, "that's not what I summoned you for. You should know that soon, the other members of the Dzuni will arrive here."

"No!" barked Hatsuharu. "They don't need to experience the horror of living with you."

"Indeed? Perhaps after some of them get here, you'll realize how ungrateful you've been to me. I took steps to make sure their lives would be as miserable as yours, if not more."

That had been the end of the audience. Now Haku and Hatsuharu were having hot cocoa with Rhena in a side kitchen.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" asked Rhena as she ran a scrutizing eye over the boys. "Good. Sit down, make yourselves comfy, now."

The three drank their steaming cups in a companionable solitude. Rhena thoughtfully looked at the boys over the rim of her cup.

"Haku, Hatsuharu," she addressed them firmly. "I have looked after you since you were little boys I could bounce on my knee. If anything bothers you, I want you to tell me."

"How does someone as insane as Asheno remain as family head?" demanded Haku.

"Yeah," interjected Hatsuharu. "How is it possible? So many people know about his problems."

Rhena's lips tightened. "Boys…" she sighed. "Asheno has very tight control over the Shoma affairs. Do you know about the family curse?"

"You know about it?" gasped Haku. "I thought the servants weren't supposed to know."

"I'm an exception. Asheno knows I know. A little over fifteen years ago, he hired me to be one of two head nursemaids to oversee the care of thirteen new babies. Haname Dze was the other one—yes, you remember her, Hatsuharu. You were always so attached to her, Blessedly kind woman, she was.

"Well, Asheno had told us we would take care of you until proper foster families were found. He said that only you two would stay here in the main Shoma house, as his wards. Dze and I noticed that you all looked very unusual, but that didn't make us suspicious. We just thought you were the most beautiful babies. And so you were, I declare. Our job was just to take care of you, and we did.

"One day, when Hatsuharu was about three and a half years old, Asheno ordered me to appear before him with Hatsuharu. He told me, 'I want you to give Hatsuharu a full-body hug. Now.' He had this gleam in his eyes—dangerous-like. I'd never seen him like that before. Usually he was very gentlemanly. You know how well he can put on an act. I didn't want a sweet little baby in the presence of someone like that, so I tried to tell him that you needed a nap, Hatsuharu. But he just growled, 'Hug him.' I hugged you, Hatsuharu, just to get you out of that man's room more quickly. Nothing happened, except you started to cry.

"'Master,' I said to him, 'little Hatsuharu really needs his sleep. His crying will only bother you more.'

"'No,' he practically screams, 'tap him on his collarbone.'

"'What for?' I said. 'That won't do anything except make him cry even more!' But Asheno only got angrier, and threatened me. So I tapped you on your collarbone, and of course you started bawling at the top of your lungs. And nothing else happened. Finally he let us go."

"I know that being hugged by a member of the opposite sex is supposed to transform a Dzuni to animal shape," Haku said, "but I don't understand about the collarbone."

"It's an old test in the family," explained Rhena. "Some dzuni don't transform as easily as others, but the collarbone tap never lies."

"What happened after that?" Hatsuharu prompted.

"Naturally, I told Dze what happened. She was just outraged. 'Something's not right here, Rhena,' she said. 'First Asheno sends off all the babies, except two, with scampy-looking people, and now this. He may be master of the house, but no one gets to do this to gorgeous, innocent little babies like them! I'm having a word or two with him!'

"When Dze made up her mind, there was no stopping her, though I had a very bad feeling. She did see Asheno, but she got naught but a black eye to show for it. That very night, a doctor we'd never seen before came to see us. I remembered thinking he looked just like one of the babies who'd left—he had such a lovely shade of auburn hair and green eyes. But he had grown his hair over his left eye—you couldn't see it, it was totally covered, I remember—very odd. He comes into this very kitchen, where me and Dze were having a nice cup of cocoa. He says, 'Good evening ladies. I am Shoma Hathori, the private doctor of Shoma Asheno. He asked me to look after Ms. Haname. If you could come in here, please, Ms. Haname, the light's better in this room.'

"Dze followed him into the room, and that was the last I saw of her. I have a reliable gut, you know, and that night my gut told me not to let the doctor touch me. So when he came back out, I didn't so much as let him breathe before I said, 'Look here, Doctor Shoma, I don't know what you did to Dze, but we were hired to look after some wonderful babies, and they need us. At least let me stay and take care of them. They need someone to save them from Asheno.' He just stood there gaping at me like his mother risen from the dead. So I decided to ask him. I'd already said too much, and I didn't have anything to lose.

"'Whatever you did to Dze, did that have something to do with Asheno ordering me to hug one of the babies?' That got him. He said to me, 'Are you sure that Asheno ordered you to hug the baby? Was the baby a boy?' I said yes both times. Then he asks me all sorts of questions like, did they have strange hair colors, eye colors and so on. I said yes to all of those questions.

"'What is going on?' I demanded. 'What is so wrong with the children that Asheno expects something horrible to happen when I hug them? And what is with tapping them on the collarbone? Can't Asheno let them alone like normal children?' I give him my best evil eye—you know what my evil eye is like—and he's quiet for a long time.

"Finally he said, 'They are not normal children. You see, Rhena, the Shoma family is cursed…' And he gives me a long lecture about how the curse worked. That about floored me, especially when he told me that Asheno was head of the family because he had been the Dzuni god while the curse was still unbroken. Then I pointed out to him that you two didn't transform when you were hugged.

" 'Sometimes it's delayed—some children cursed with Dzuni spirits don't start being able to transform until a few years after birth. But such cases are rare. I was one of those rare cases. I was cursed with the spirit of the Dragon. It's very shocking to me that the curse seems to have returned. I thought it was broken for good…that explains why Asheno summoned me.'

"'What did you do with Dze?' I had to know. 'I erased her memories of the Shoma household,' he said, 'that is my special Dzuni ability, which I've retained even though my generation's curse was broken.'

"'Did Asheno tell you to erase my memories, too?'

"'He told me only to erase any memories of the hugging incident. I believe he intends for you to stay with the children, and for Dze to leave permanently.'

"I convinced the doctor to let me keep all my memories, because I thought someday you'd need somebody to explain the curse to you someday and help you with Asheno. The doctor and his fellow Dzuni must've also been abused by Asheno, because I had no trouble convincing him of the problems you'd have with Asheno. As a matter of fact, I remember now, he said, 'I know firsthand of the pain Asheno is capable of inflicting.' And he had such a tragic look on his face. I've never forgotten that. Since then, I've always thought he was actually a very kind man, just a victim who became a slave to Asheno's whims, just like everyone else in this house."

Rhena stopped speaking, sighed, and sipped her now-cold cocoa. Haku and Hatsuharu had been sitting spellbound. Neither moved.

"At that moment, Asheno began yelling for the doctor, so he had to leave. But before he left, he told me he wouldn't erase my memories, but that I should pretend that I no longer remembered that incident. I've been pretending since then. Dze was sent to somewhere in western Hoth, Rhenigroth, I think. About five years ago, Asheno decided he trusted me enough to tell me about the Dzuni curse. Of course, I acted like it was the first time I'd heard it. I've never seen the doctor again—I think Asheno got worried and purposely kept him away. Nor have I seen any of the doctor's Dzuni fellows."

Rhena got to her feet. "Oh, my, the time!" she exclaimed. "I've been away from my duties long enough. Asheno won't like that, should he find out. I should go. Of course, you will keep this a secret, boys, all that I've told you?"

"Of course, of course!" Hatsuharu said. "We love you, Rhena, we don't want you sent away."

"Oh, you dears," Rhena gave each boy a bear hug, then strode out of the room.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough. In mid-afternoon, Kho called to inform Haku and Hatsuharu that Tori was still sick for the third day in a row.

"Kho, are you all right? You're talking kind of strangely," Haku asked, concerned. It almost sounded as though Kho was talking with a big rag stuffed into his cheek.

"Ah'mm fahn, relly," insisted Kho.

"If you say so," Haku murmered. Kho hung up, and Haku replaced the receiver.

"Do you think something's going on at Kho's home?" Hatsuharu asked.

"We don't even know what part of Lhasa he lives in," answered Haku. "I'm worried too. Normally he goes on and on, but he kept the conversation so short."

At six-thirty, Rhena sent a girl to the small parlor to announce dinner. Haku had been drawing in the bay window, and Hatsuharu read a newspaper, curled in a chair. Both were getting up when the girl returned to the room.

"Master Hatsuharu, Ms. Rhena says that the phone rang in your room while you were in the garden."

"Thanks."

To Haku, "I'm going to check the answering message. Wait for me."

Haku stood, admiring the silhouette of the bare flame tree in the fading sunlight.

"What? Oh my GOD!" came down the stairs from Hatsuharu's room. Haku turned, to see Hatsuharu flying at him. Hatsuharu grabbed Haku's upper arms, eyes streaming with tears.

"That was Lhurone who called me earlier!" yelled Hatsuharu. "He says that he's going to be in a kickout at seven!" A "kickout" was the word used to describe what happened to members who left gangs. The gang would corner the departing member, and beat him or her. In girl gangs, the kickouts were generally gentler and the departing member usually survived, but that was rarely the case in boy gangs.

"Oh, God," moaned Hatsuharu, "it's too late to get into Shiwa before the kickout begins. If I'd been here…" He collapsed sobbing into a chair. Haku patted him on the back, and then left for the kitchen to get some water for him.

Since finding out about the Dzuni, Haku had tried to think of everyone of the same age group he'd met who might be a Dzuni. Tori and Kho, definitely. The other person he'd thought of had been Lhurone. He and Hatsuharu had first met Halinake Lhurone in the mountain suburb of Shiwa while they spent a summer there with Asheno. They were twelve then. To be perfectly accurate, Hatsuharu had been the one to befriend Lhurone. Haku'd had a hard time warming up to the violent boy, already a member of the worst gang in town. But weirdly, Hatsuharu and Lhurone became close friends. Lhurone did supplement Hatsuharu's lack of sense of direction with an absolutely perfect sense of direction, but other than that, Haku couldn't see what Hatsuharu saw in Lhurone. When pressed for a reason, all Hatsuharu could say was, "I just felt drawn to him." The two had kept in touch sporadically, but Hatsuharu hadn't heard much from Lhurone until now. It tugged at Haku to see Hatsuharu so upset. He tried so hard to protect his friends, and now one of them was about to die…Haku filled a glass with water and started the return trip.

An idea flashed in his head. Maybe he could send Faran-Zhuku to Shiwa to rescue Lhurone. But was it even possible? He'd only just started getting to know the ghost. Even if he could, would it work?

As he neared the parlor, he heard Hasuharu sobbing. The clock said 6:45. It was now or never. He had to try, for Hatsuharu's sake.

"Faran-Zhuku, can you hear me?" Haku said. Silence. "Please, this is urgent. You remember Hatsuharu's friend, Lhurone, the boy we met in Shiwa when we were twelve? He's about to be killed by his gang in a kickout. Can you go to Shiwa and save him?" Nothing. "Faran-Zhuku…"

**"I remember…horse boy…"** The cold draft permeated Haku's body as he passed out, dropping senseless to the floor.


	8. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything that you recognize isn't mine. **

**Chapter 10**

If you walk down Sonu Street, the main street in the Mhagenu district of Lhasa, and head in a northwesterly direction, eventually you reach the foothills fringing the Hothan Divide. At that point, Sonu Street becomes a two-lane, hilly country road. An hour car drive away, you arrive at Shiwa, a suburb that has become a stopping point for the well-to-do of Lhasa on their way to more far-away, exclusive mountain resorts during the summer season. The well-to-do never stay long, and only in the nice part of town—Shiwa is notorious as a gang town. Outside of the four or five streets kept up for the visitors, most of Shiwa's walls have been defaced, and potholes spread their insidious cracks over the streets.

On the whole, Shiwa is a slightly more mountainous version of Ghunene. The biggest difference is that its young people take pride in their gang culture. Gang fights were a daily occurrence, and kickouts were rare. The gangsters came from families whose adults were preoccupied with trying to pay the bills with minimal salaries from low-level jobs, and were prone to drinking to excess to drown their sorrows.

Halinake Lhurone had come from such a family. They weren't even his real parents, just his guardians, so he hadn't felt too bad when he joined a gang full-time at age eleven. He hadn't tried to contact them since then. Too busy defending his title as the best hand-to-hand fighter in town. The gang had become his life. Lhurone spent his days with the boys dodging the well-meaning but pathetic volunteers trying to get them to go to school, and having it out with other gangs. In the fights, disbelieving opponents had laughed at Lhurone's petite, girlish body, only to have their faces slammed into the ground. Lhurone did look a little strange—perfectly thick, black hair, pulled into a long, low ponytail, a long yet elegant face with big round eyes and the sleek body with muscular legs. However, his fighting and cussing skills were all the gang needed.

Now things had changed. Lhurone was getting kicked out.

_Lhurone_

I wasn't used to wandering the streets without the boys, being all alone. They'd probably hurt me later. I say "hurt," but I meant something far more serious. Something that would lead to death. I can't say it because I've become literally unable to say, do or even think anything violent. It's true. On my 15th birthday four days ago, I suddenly became unable to tolerate the sight of punches, the smell of blood, or hearing curses. Very bad news if you're a member of a Shiwa gang.

I tried to hide it at first, but it was impossible. The boys couldn't help but noticed when I fainted while Hiro, the leader, twisted some middle-aged man's arm in a mugging. Soon after that, I tried to cuss at a kid from a rival gang, and instead of screaming "&# $# &," I said in a demure voice, "Your kitten is really adorable." You can just imagine the way my comrades were staring at me. A few more incidents like that, and this morning they had told me I was getting kicked out. Tonight, at seven. Since then, I'd been wandering around Shiwa, avoiding any gangsters I saw.

You ask, why don't I get out of town and run away? The answer is, I have nowhere to go, and no money to get anywhere. And anyway, my gang would've chased me until the score was settled. Memories are long in Shiwa. I couldn't go back to my guardians; I didn't know if the old drunks were even still alive. So I just walked around, preparing for my fate. For the first time, since departure from this world was imminent for me, I felt doubts about gang life. My mind went down other avenues, to a summer three years ago, when I'd first met Hatsuharu and Haku.

I'd run into the boys when I was out on a mugging in the fancy part of town. They were walking around in some hotel garden when I jumped the fence and crashed into Hatsuharu.

"Hey, easy," he said. "What's the big idea?"

"Not your business, &# out of my way," I had spat, still a tough gangster.

"Well, could you give us directions back to the hotel first?" he'd asked, embarrassed. Haku had been standing behind him, wary of me. Don't blame him at all for acting like that around me. After all, he saw my clothes and the tattoos on my arms. Me, I don't know why I stopped and gave Hatsuharu the directions. Something about him…the aura of safety he gave off. We just clicked. Or maybe I just felt sorry for his having such a terrible sense of direction.

Whatever my reasons at first, Hatsuharu became my only real friend. He was the only equal I had in my fighting days. He told me that he and Haku were here with their guardian for the summer, because their guardian was trying to track down an old acquaintance. I learned about life in Lhasa, about their school experiences, the two friends they had. Haku kept his distance from me at first, but eventually he would chip in every so often. He was a little frightening, Haku was. Made me think their life wasn't all roses, the way he kept to himself and how Hatsuharu always kept talk about Asheno down to a minimum. Growing up in Shiwa, you quickly learn to spot an abused kid when you see one. Haku was one, although his relationship with Asheno seemed different from ones I'd heard about.

By the end of the summer, Haku and I had become better friends. But I owed it to Hatsuharu to let him know what was about to happen to me. I found the one working public pay phone in the poor part of Shiwa, and used what was left of my change to call him.

My face tightened as I heard, "Hello, this is Shoma Hatsuharu. Sorry, but I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Uh…this is Halinake Lhurone…um…I just called to say goodbye." Tears creeped into my eyes. "I'm getting kicked out at seven." It was was five already. I suppose I'd had a fantasy that Hatsuharu would rescue me. I hung up without saying anything more.

At fifteen to seven, I walked to the vacant lot where I'd be kicked out. The shadows cast by the one lone street light seemed more ominous than usual. I walked to the center of the light. At five to seven, the sound of heavy boots crunching on the gravel broke my last few moments of peace.

"So…any last words, _isho_?" leered Hiro. The black jackets of the gang ringed the circle of light, bright green armbands glowing. I saw a few flashes—knives.

"No." Loud and clear. I wouldn't wimp out now.

"Against the wall," ordered Hiro. One side of the circle opened up to let me pass. I walked over, and put my back against the cold concrete. I fixed my gaze on a speck of dust dancing in the light behind the advancing boys. A sharp pain made me gasp as the first punch cracked a rib. I doubled over, and a hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back up. I fell to the ground after getting hit on the right side of my head. Luminescent spots swam through my eyes and I vaguely sensed a warm liquid running down my face. Oh, I'm bleeding, I don't like blood...was the last coherent though I had. A quick kick knocked the wind out of me. Dazed, I automatically clutched my stomach.

"Fuck! What is that?"

"It's got red eyes!" A deep, resounding growl.

"I'm beating it out of here!" I barely registered the gang suddenly running away, and the enormous dog chasing after them. Screaming, followed by thuds.

Minutes passed. I'd finally gained my breath and worked my aching body back into a sitting position against the wall. Then, a wet, really wet, tongue began licking my bloody right cheek. I turned my head slowly, to come eye-to-eye with glowing red eyes.

First, "this is how my life will end" came to mind. But it was too quiet. No one was around—everyone had gone. My nose caught a strong tangy smell. Blood, and not just mine. I peered into the darkness around me as best as I could. On the edge of the lighted circle, a puddle of blood slowly congealed and dried. The sight made my vision swim.

"Oh, butterflies," I groaned, as my inhalation caused a shooting pain from my cracked rib. "I wish I could cuss right." Wait, forget cussing right—there was still a monstrous dog lurking around somewhere, who had probably killed a couple of the gangsters. Why would I be spared? I was in no shape to run.

The dark shape eased itself into the light. Now I saw that it really was more of a wolf, a giant black wolf with a serious fur condition. Blood still dripped from its jaws, spotting the gravel. Not one of my muscles dared twitch.

**"Lhurone…"** It took me a moment to register that that thing had actually called me by name.

**"Those men bother no more. All dead." **It killed ALL of them? How?

**"You safe now. Go to Lhasa, to Shoma house." **The monster had saved my life. My head throbbed.

**"Remember Shoma house. In Mhagenu. Must go now. Weak. You must go to Lhasa."** The wolf leapt upwards and disappeared.

The silence was broken only by my strained breathing. A ghostly creature had just killed everybody in the gang and saved my life. It had also talked to me and told me to go to Lhasa. I had survived a kickout with only minimal injury, comparatively. Carefully, I inched upwards into a standing position. I steeled myself enough to riffle through the pockets of one of the dead boys lying close by. His throat had been torn open by the wolf.

"Its teeth were real, certainly," I thought, trying to stave off fainting from the sight of blood. Aha…found enough change. Slowly I walked to the phone booth, picked up the receiver, and dialed.

"Hello?" Hatsuharu's voice responded, clearly agitated.

"Hatsuharu?" I gasped. Maybe my rib wasn't just cracked after all—the pain burned with each breath.

"Lhurone? Are you all right? Has the kickout happened yet?"

"It's okay, Hatsuharu, I'm okay. There was a kickout, but…you won't believe what I say."

"Try me."

"The gang had started patting me, and then this…huge wolf with red eyes appeared out of nowhere and uh…well, everybody in the gang is now deceased. Then the wolf talked to me and told me to go to the Shoma house in Lhasa, and he was gone after that."

Hysterical laughter came over the phone. "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, but I understood everything you just said."

"What?"

"Never mind," Hatsuharu was regaining control of himself. "I'll explain it you later. But what did you mean, "patting"? Didn't you mean "hitting?""

"Yes, but—"

"You can tell me later. Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, I think I've got a broken rib and my head really hurts."

"Can you keep yourself safe until I come to pick you up?"

"Uh, yeah…How about I meet you at the hotel, the one that I met you at? You remember where that is, right?" That wasn't far. I'd be able to get there.

"Yes, I'll be there in an hour. Be careful until then."

"Thanks."

"See you, old friend."


	9. Chapter 11

**Please R&R:)**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FB; Natsuki Takaya does. Nor do I own anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 11**

Haku floated weightlessly in a thick blackness. His mind, detached, taking no notice as he twirled around in the darkness. A glorious feeling, so relaxed, a rare event for Haku. He closed his eyes. Ah, he could stay in this world forever, never go back to Asheno, the abuse, the despair.

His body began falling. He knew he was falling because he felt the breeze coming from underneath. Vaguely, a distant remnant of his consciousness wondered where he was going. As he plunged, a clear aquamarine ribbon formed a wavy path beneath him. The sound of rippling water reached his sensitive eyes, even as far above it as he was. A river, in the middle of utter nothingness. A bright circle of fire appeared next to the river.

As Haku neared the river, he saw that the fire was actually a flame tree in full bloom.

"Faran-Zhuku was right, those flowers were beautiful. It is a shame," the thought trailed through his head, as he smiled.

"For Hoth, for Shoma sake…still hope…" echoed memories of his recent conversation with the ghost.

As if on cue, all the blossoms drifted simultaneously off the branches, some settling onto nonexistent ground, others taken up by the current of the river and floating towards an indeterminate end.

No, panicked Haku, I don't want the flowers to fall. His body picked up speed, and the river approached him at an alarming rate.

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha_ rang through the darkness, relentlessly repeated.

"Nooooo!" screamed Haku as he splashed head first through the water's surface. When he looked up, he saw purple shadows of flame tree blossoms floating by. An invisible force had gripped his legs and was pulling him further down, down, down. Bubbles burst from Haku's mouth, escaping towards the disappearing surface.

"I'm going to drown in my own vision," thought Haku, resigning himself to his fate. "It won't be so bad to die, finally be in peace." He smiled.

The reverie was interrupted by images furiously ripping across his line of sight.

Asheno dragging a flailing 10-year-old Huki and locking him in a closet.

"Asheno, please! Why are you doing this to me?" he yelled, banging on the door.

Another door. It opened, revealing a young brunette, not a day over 20, lying on the floor with a gaping mouth. Blood and gray matter pooling around her. A gushing hole in the back of her head. A gun next to her limp hand.

Now Khosure…no, it was someone who only looked like Khosure. This man wore the thick traditional, formal robe of Hothan high society, in a reddish-purple color with exquisite embroidery. His head in a woman's lap, his face streaked with gentle tears. "I'm scared, that I'll be lonely, that Huki will never…"

Disinfectant filled Haku's nostrils. A sterile, gray hospital room came into being. In the bed, Lhurone…no, a woman with the same long black hair, tubes snaking out her arms, bandages wrapped effusively around her ribs and head. Then a flashback of Asheno slamming her into a wall in fury.

A small girl, twelve at most, with orange-yellow hair and amber eyes, standing absolutely silent in the middle of a classroom full of girls laughing at her. Flame tree blossoms blocked the image, drifting downwards in a suffocating shower.

The sound of melancholic roaring. The harithe. The howling wiped out all sound from the following images. The little Lhurone arguing, an obese man swaying on his feet, threatening Lhurone with a bottle.

Tori as a five-year-old, despondently staring out the window at snowflakes gently dancing through the air.

Finally, Haku watched as Asheno backed him into that corner, in that same parlor, the night of the harithe ten years ago. Watched as the evil bastard delivered blow after blow, the little boy still resisting, trying to protect himself…resisting…defiant.

"Dzuni…for Shoma…" rasped the ghost's voice.

"I can't die! I can't!" Yelling, trying to be heard over the harithe. "There's so much more I need to do, to learn about the Dzuni! Asheno must not torture us anymore! My friends! I DON'T WANT TO DIIIIIIIE!" Haku's final, desperate yell dragged on as he flailed wildly, as if trying to swim through the harithe.

His butt hit earth with a resounding thud while the back of his head and elbow smacked something hard. The pain snapped Haku's eyes wide open. He sat there panting heavily, taking in and slowly registering the familiar sight of his room. His hekasho had come loose and one shoulder was exposed. Blankets twisted around his legs. The desk—that was what he'd hit his head against…he was alive. He hadn't died.

"Haku, are you all right? I heard you screaming," Hatsuharu stood in the doorway. Seeing Haku sprawled against the side of the bed, he bent down to pick Haku up by his armpit. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh, Hatsuharu," was all Haku said as he dazedly turned his head to look at the worried teenager. "Uh, yeah, I banged a few things but I'm okay. I was just having another one of those visions." Although, and he didn't mention this to Hatsuharu, he'd never had a vision quite like that before. It had been…so out of control. Hatsuharu settled him back onto the bed, in a sitting position.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" insisted Hatsuharu.

"No, no…" Haku shook his head slowly. His memory flooded back. He'd just sent the ghost to Shiwa, and what happened after that?

"I found you in the hallway passed out, and I brought you up here," explained Hatsuharu, pouring out a glass of water.

"What time is it?" Haku asked, taking a refreshing sip.

"Almost midnight." So he'd been unconscious for almost four hours.

"Really, you scared me to death," Hatsuharu went on, settling himself into Haku's rickety desk chair. "First Lhurone, then you pass out. You sent the ghost wolf to Shiwa didn't you? I bet that was what made you faint. But of course I didn't know it at the moment." Hatsuharu stopped, surprised at himself. He didn't often express his fears and worries in front of anybody. "Well…anyway, I don't know how to thank you. Lhurone's safe." Hatsuharu studied the floor.

"Where's Lhurone now?"

"He's here."

"In the Shoma complex? Already?"

"Hm-mm. He called me about 7:30, said some monstrous wolf had come along and killed everyone who was beating him up." Hatsuharu grinned. "I got the chauffeur, picked him up in Shiwa and brought him back here. He's asleep now. He does have some injuries."

"So the next member of the Dzuni has arrived," mused Haku.

"He's a member of the Dzuni?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain of that. When I sent him off, Faran-Zhuku referred to him as 'horse boy.' I'm just sorry he's going to have to deal with Asheno now."

Lhurone slept soundly after Hatsuharu had the family physician treat him upon their return to the compound. The splendor of the house had escaped Lhurone, consumed by pain and fatigue. Too much happened in too short a time, and he had slipped into a grateful sleep in the first good bed he'd been in for years. He did not wake up until eleven the next morning when the strong painkiller began wearing off.

"Ungn," groaned Lhurone as his bleary eyes blinked stiffly. Slowly, he opened his eyes wider, grimacing at the twinge his rib gave him. "Oh, teddy bear…" Still couldn't cuss right. What in the name of flower was going on? Nuts, not even in his own thoughts could he cuss. As the blurriness cleared, Lhurone took in the comfortable affluence of the room, the generous size of his bed, the fine draperies, the silk pillowcases.

"Pink lollipops, so this is where Hatsuharu lives," murmured Lhurone. The heavy wooden door creeped open, and a middle-aged woman's head peeked in.

"Oh, good, you're awake, Lhurone!" beamed the woman. "Just in time, too—I'm sure that painkiller must be wearing off now. Oh, I can tell from your face, dearie. Now then, I'll give you some more now. The doctor said you'll need it for at least three days, and no getting out of bed for a week. It's so good to have you back. I can make sure you're properly fed now! By the gods, the way Asheno had you beautiful children shipped off to miserable, lousy…" The plump woman kept up her chatter as she fiddled with a medicine bottle and poured some water. Lhurone lay slightly stunned. He'd heard of Asheno, certainly, but what was this talk of Asheno trading in children? Anyway, there was no time for such thoughts while his rib was throbbing, and he liked hearing this woman talk. Her presence cheered the room up.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" asked Lhurone.

The woman stopped her chatter and turned around, "Oh, of course, how rude of me!" She laughed. "My name is Rhena, dear, I'm the head housekeeper of the Shoma compound. I took care of the lot of you when you were babies. You've turned into such a beautiful young man, Lhurone—it is still Lhurone, isn't it? Good. Although I can't imagine what Asheno was thinking when he named you that. 'He was warlike'—it doesn't suit a quiet young man like you."

Lhurone chuckled weakly. That was the first time anyone had called him a quiet young man. The irony. "You took care of me when I was a baby?"

"Yes, before that evil man Asheno practically SOLD you!" Rhena stated indignantly as she waved the medicine bottle and measuring cup in the air.

"Asheno, he's the guardian of Hatsuharu and Haku?" Lhurone's mind was still too cloudy, but he vaguely recalled Hatsuharu mentioning Asheno. Neither he nor Haku would talk about Asheno much. "What's Asheno like?"

Rhena only set her lips together tightly. In this grim attitude she gave Lhurone his medicine. "Now, then, dearie, that should help. You'll know more about Asheno when you've had some more rest. You need to get some good food in that body of yours. All those tattoos…I'm sure you've never had a decent meal in your life!"

Not too far from the truth, Lhurone thought, as the pain began to subside.

"Hi, Rhena. Is Lhurone—hey, Lhurone! How are you feeling?" Hatsuharu smiled as he saw Lhurone.

"Hatsuharu," Lhurone tried to sound as glad as he could, with the medicine turning his head into a heavy weight.

"Hatsuharu, don't tire him out," scolded Rhena gently. "That painkiller the doctor ordered for him makes him woozy."

"Oh?" Hatsuharu stepped inside, eyebrows cocked in worry. Haku followed behind. Haku feels even more dangerous than he did when he was twelve, observed Lhurone. For his part, seeing Lhurone prone in bed jarred Haku, as he recalled the hospital scene with the woman who resembled Lhurone so exactly.

"Come now, Hatsuharu, again you're worrying about everybody," Rhena said, arms on her hips. "You know perfectly well he's in capable hands, and if I do say so, I know my business with ailing children."

"That you do," admitted Hatsuharu, lips curving upwards into a smile.

"Asheno doesn't know about Lhurone being here, yet, does he?" Haku suddenly asked. Then his wolf's ears picked up the faint shuffling of a slow gait—Asheno. Too late. "Oh no, he's here!" hissed Haku to Hatsuharu.

"No, he's not, I don't hear anybody coming," said Hatsuharu, alarmed nevertheless.

"Who's Asheno?" slurred Lhurone.

"Someone you'll wish you never had to know," intoned Haku darkly.

"Huh?"

"You're not being very kind to your guardian, Haku," cooed Asheno as he slid into the room. "So the horse has returned to his family." Asheno gave Lhurone an appraising look, a small malicious smile upon his face. How satisfying…for once one of them was lying before him, totally vulnerable. The three other people were boring their deadliest glares into Asheno's back.

"Leave Lhurone alone, he's badly injured," Hatsuharu said in a low voice.

"My eyes still function well, my slow cow," rebuked Asheno in an even voice. "I am only here to see Lhurone for a few minutes. I'd be a truly low human to attack someone in his sickbed." Barely audible chuckling. Asheno stopped by the bed and sat on the mattress next to Lhurone.

A disembodied head emerged in the fuzz of Lhurone's vision. A girly face, with black hair. But it looked old, the face had hard lines around the mouth and forehead, and the eyes carried a great bitterness and anger. The face was smiling. Not a genuine smile, a satisfied smile. The kind of smile Hiro, the gang leader, would have on his face after having his way with some street girl.

Lhurone felt a cold, bony hand caress his cheek. His entire body froze.

"Such a lovely boy, just like your mother," whispered the face. Only Lhurone and Haku heard Asheno speak. Asheno smirked. "I do hope we shall get along well." The iciness of the hand seeped into his body. The face drifted out of sight.

Asheno left the room as quickly as he'd arrived, with a smug expression.

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence passed. "Gods preserve us," declared Rhena, as soon as she heard Asheno walk out of earshot. "He will be the death of us all." She trotted over to Lhurone's side. "Lhurone, just take it easy now."

Lhurone nodded slightly. Asheno. He'd met him at last. No wonder Hatsuharu and Haku never wanted to talk about him. A drugged sleep overtook Lhurone.


	10. Chapter 12

Same old song: I'd love to hear feedback from you.

**Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize doesn't belong to me either.**

**Chapter 12**

_Khosure_

The house was as quiet as the class during one of that dreadful Ms. Sena's history lectures when I arrived home, sopping wet from yet another spring downpour. I'd just been visiting Tori, still battling her worst attack yet, that afternoon. She'd been sick for five whole days, which has never happened before. She was just laying there in her bed, her breathing labored and her lovely jade eyes glazed with the most unimaginable pain. Oh, I'm so exhausted, what with trying to cheer her up and keeping myself from strangling that dastardly witch of a mother she has.

Why had Tori never told us about her parents? We, as her bosom friends, would have done our best to come to her rescue. I was absolutely shocked as I listened to that beastly woman tell Tori, who could be afflicted with a devastating, fatal disease for all we know, to stop whining.

"But what could I do anyway, Mother?" I asked the photo, sitting on the bed and giving the long-neglected She and Ku my loving patting. "I can't possibly bring her here." This place is not fit for a princess like her, and Cook has gotten…violent. Tomorrow, when school started again for the week, I'd just tell Hara and Haku that I'd smacked my face on a door. Luckily Tori had been too ill to notice; she'd have jumped on me and never quit until every detail had been squeezed out. Hopefully Hara wouldn't harangue me either; he's also a stubborn soul.

"Oh! I know! I'll just tell Hara and Haku about Tori's mother! Maybe she could go stay with them. I'm absolutely certain they're better off than me, if they have a chauffeur to take them home after school! Don't you think that would work, She and Ku?" I tossed my darling little snakes into the air. "We must absolutely get Tori away from that woman, who I'm almost certain is an apostate of the devil." We'd just learned that word at school; it has an impressive ring for people like Tori's mother. Although, come to think of it, it is indeed mysterious that Tori looks nothing like either of her ugly, dimwitted parents.

"Perhaps Tori is like me, a lost princess who shall be restored to her kingdom, like me. Then maybe we'll get married…" I looked at Mother, suddenly overwhelmed by utter depression. I do love Tori. I love her deeply, with all my silly, dramatic heart. How could a gorgeous, wonderful, brilliant girl like her from a good neighborhood ever be happy with a stupid Ghunene poor boy? I tease her at school, dance around her, but I long to hold her, comfort her, take her away from that horrible house.

A tear stain appeared on She's head. "Oh, She, I'm so very sorry, your lovely skin," I cried as I placed She and Ku next to Mother's picture. A deluge poured forth from my golden eyes. I lay on my bed sobbing for a full half hour, I'm sure. Then my eyes began tingling, almost like they were straining to pop out of their sockets. Otherwise I'd have continued crying for another ten minutes or so. Never have my eyes done this before.

"What?" I pressed my hands against my eyes as the straining sensation became stronger. My sinuses ached, throbbing in tune to a steady but merciless and silent drumbeat. "AUUUGH!" I yelled as I rolled and crumpled onto the floor.

"Shut up, you damn drunkard!" bellowed a neighbor, banging on the wood of our shack. He thought it was Cook screaming.

The tingling and throbbing vanished, my eyes popped open and I lay on the floor, I leapt up and looked into my cracked compact mirror, my golden eyes staring wildly. I examined the reflection closely. My otherworldly eyes looked no different. The gold gleamed, making my greenish-yellow bruise dark by comparison. Or perhaps they weren't the eyes of a prince from a far-away kingdom-they were the eyes of a long-lost mythical monster, waiting to be unleashed.

_Hotohori_

Mother glared at me.

"Finally you've stopped moaning! It's about time! Five days, for heavens' sake!' She walked out of my room.

True, I'd stopped moaning. But the pain had only lessened to a persistent slight burning in my lungs. Deep breaths were still impossible. At least it was not as bad as it had been before. Five days? I'd been down for five days? When would this all end? When would I finally…

"No, I refuse to think about that," I said. I could move once again. Gingerly, I sat up. The first thing to do is take a bath, I thought, my body feels so slimy and the sheets are so dirty from my sweating.

My faithful digital clock said 7 p.m. Dinnertime. I should eat something, I'd had no substantial food the last few days and gods, I was so hungry.

Idly I stared out the window. The heavy rain created intricate mazes of water on the glass. It was completely black outside. Another dreary spring rainstorm. Suddenly an image of Kho came before me. He'd visited me earlier in the day, hadn't he? Something didn't look right, a shadow on his face…but the memory wasn't clear enough. Still, it rankled on me.

"In any case," I said to myself, "I hope he dressed carefully enough for this rain." Kho had always been susceptible to the cold. A few times in the past, he'd fallen ill with bad colds or severe bronchitis from chills caught in heavy rain or freezing winds. Kho should move to a warmer climate, I don't know why he already hasn't. Well, I'd miss him if he left Lhasa. The idea of him leaving…I don't like thinking about it. And we are his only friends.

After staring at the mirror for several more minutes, Khosure had finally set it face down on the surface of his desk. He pulled his math book out of his shoulder bag. Naturally, he'd forgotten to do the problem set that was due tomorrow. Also, he'd be better off if he were occupied when Cook came home. Maybe she'd go straight to making their meager dinner instead of targeting him.

Alas, Khosure's fragile hopes were quickly dashed. The flimsy door crashed against the wall as Cook stormed into the shack, and smashed an empty bottle against the floor.

"Khosure! Where are you!" she demanded, swaying, her bloodshot eyes furious.

Oh, no, please let this end quickly, Khosure silently prayed. There was no avoiding her when she was like this. He walked out of his room as meekly and submissively as he could. He saw the broken glass. This would be worse than usual.

"If that bitch hadn't died," ranted Cook, "I wouldn't have to deal with you! It's your fault my life is so horrible!"

Khosure kept staring at the floor, avoiding the drunken, twisted expression of unbridled bitterness and anger.

"Worthless boy. You can't do anything, like a good Hothan. You'd have been better off dead…" growled Cook, "…freak." Khosure's head whipped up.

"Yes, you're a freak. That hair, those eyes, no regular person has them! You're a monster!"

Monster…monster…monster…golden eyes gleaming…stirring underneath golden eyes gleaming…

"I'm a monster," repeated Khosure dully, arms drooping.

"A monster! I'm going to do what should've been done when you were born," Cook yelled, bending down and gripping the neck of the broken bottle.

Rain pounded thunderously on the deteriorating roof. Echoing, monster, monster. You are a monster. No, thought Khosure, I'm not a monster. I'm not! I don't want to be one!

"No!" he screamed, grabbing Cook's arms and stopping the progress of the perilous bottle towards his head.

"You'll be sorry!" yelled Cook, struggling. Where had his strength come from?

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" For an instant, ecstasy flooded Khosure's being. He locked eye contact with Cook, startled by his desperate scream. His eyes were tingling, straining again, but this time it felt good, like a dam bursting forth. The gold gleamed, and Cook's eyes reflected the glow back. She was absolutely entranced by the beauty, and she was doomed.

The thunder rolled, and the golden glow morphed into a blinding flash. It was over, after it had begun only three seconds ago. Khosure stood with his arms up, where he'd been holding Cook back. His eyes were normal again, had lost the gleam. He gasped. Cook was gone. Looking down, he saw a large pile of light gray ash at his feet.

"Ah." The feeling of euphoria had gone with the flash. As a leaden cold seized his body, he raised his head and lowered his hands a little. One by one, he released his fingers from the fists he'd formed. Ash dropped from both hands, to join the pile on the floor.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Khosure ran willy-nilly out the door into the storm, wearing nothing but a thin pair of shoes, threadbare pants and an old hand-me-down shirt.

"You two, shut up!" bawled the neighbor. "Crazy old bat and that weird girlyboy…"

He was a monster, after all.

_Hatsuharu_

What a weekend. I was just grateful Lhurone was okay now. His speech did sound strange, however. Both Haku and I suspected it had to do with his dzuni.

"Despite what Asheno says," Haku had said after Lhurone went back to sleep, "I'm not sure what kind of animal Lhurone actually is." I agreed, but so far Lhurone's dzuni didn't seem dangerous. I would hate for Lhurone to be possessed by…a difficult spirit, like me and Haku. If anything, this dzuni seems to have been a good thing for Lhurone. He's so much more peaceful than when we first met him. In my opinion, the peaceful Lhurone far surpasses the violent Lhurone. Haku is changing a little, too. He's opening up more to me, although he still doesn't tell me what he sees in those visions of his.

I just had to get my bike out of the storm. Stupidly, I'd left it outside the gate to the compound. Hopefully it hadn't been stolen. I pulled my jacket over my head and walked out into the pouring rain.

Ah, my bike was still there, next to the gate. Great! I pulled the bike inside the compound, and was about to close the gate when I saw someone running up the sidewalk.

The figure's path curved precariously.

I heard the voice over the rain. "Help me…" Kho! What the hell was he doing here? He collapsed as I ran over to him.

"Kho? Kho!" Gods, he didn't even have a jacket on! Nothing but shoes and pants and a shirt…he would catch his death of pneumonia!

"My mother…I left her, I have to get her…" he babbled, eyes unfocused. His body burned in my arms. Kho was too weak to resist as I lifted him up in my arms and carried him inside the compound.


	11. Chapter 13

Ok, this is one of the longer chaps...just for a refresher: HukiYuki, ShigureShehure, TohruLhoru

Disclaimer: FBnot mine, anything you recognizenot mine

**Chapter 13**

_Haku_

That night, Rhena had just given Lhurone another dose of painkillers. Lhurone was pretty out of it, now. Whenever he gained consciousness, he'd usually mumble nonsense.

"He doesn't sound as though he's having nightmares," observed Hatsuharu, 'but he'll probably have some once he's off the painkillers."

"You really should relax more, he's okay now," I said. Hatsuharu didn't need to put himself out this much. Didn't he ever want a life of his own?

"Haku, you're the last person I'd expected to hear that from. From the person who's always on guard against our good guardian?"

"We deal with Asheno when we deal with Asheno. It's the way it is. I was thinking, maybe eventually I can hold Asheno back using the ghost."

"I was wondering about that myself. Have you heard from Faran-Zhuku lately?"

"Not a peep since those wild visions last night. Leaving my body and going so far to Shiwa took a lot out of him, I think. He's still not as strong as he used to be. Some more rest, and I'm sure he'll return."

"Have you given any thought as to what he'll be like once he regains full strength?"

I glanced down at Lhurone's bed sheets. Sighing, I said, "No, well, kind of. Truth is, I can't even imagine what he will be like. If I will have any control over him. I'm pretty sure that I will be able to control him to some extent—after all, I got him to Shiwa, didn't I? But there are still the times when I lost my grip on my emotions, and he killed innocent people. I must learn what his connections to my mind are like."

Hatsuharu nodded, looking out the window at the rainstorm. What was passing through his mind? "Aw, I left my bike out on the sidewalk!" He slapped his head with his hand. "I've got to bring it inside before it rusts beyond repair. Haku, stay here with Lhurone in case Asheno comes back." The muscular teenager galloped out of the room.

Naturally, Asheno sauntered in, the old calm-yet-devious look on his face. Not a good sign, Asheno's health being so stable lately. We could expect more trouble.

"How is my poor horse?" he purred.

Narrowing my eyes, I replied, "Lhurone is doing well."

"Good. Haku, earlier I realized that I'd stupidly forgotten to tell you and Hatsuharu something important. I have had trouble locating many of the Dzuni, including our precious Lhurone."

"And you call me incompetent." Asheno's mouth twisted slightly at that, but he straightened his composition.

"In any case, once school is out, I will have you boys search for the missing members. In absolute secrecy, of course. We shall discuss this more later." He said tersely, sliding toward the door.

"Rhena!" Both of us stared at the door, taken aback by Hatsuharu's sudden scream. Rhena ran through the servants' door.

"What? What?" she asked. Hatsuharu burst through the door, soaked from the rain. In his arms, he carried a limp body. My eyes took in the long silver hair and the white skin. Kho.

Rhena recognized him, too. "My goodness, it's little Khosure!"

Asheno smiled. "So it is. I'm so pleased that the snake has rejoined us."

Hatsuharu and I paid no attention. "He's not wearing any coat!" I panicked, knowing his susceptibility to cold. He was completely drenched, and he'd been out on the streets the gods knew how long…"Get a bed and dry clothes for him, Rhena! He'll develop pneumonia!"

"You heard him, woman! Now!" Asheno commanded, suddenly worried.

"You actually care?" Hatsuharu said, setting Kho upon the bed. I began taking off his wet shirt.

"It is the dzuni god's duty to look after his charges," Asheno said, "I must not have any of you die. It would be inconvenient." I knew it'd been too much to hope for a sudden change of heart from Asheno.

Two footmen wheeled in a cot. "Put it over here, by the fireplace," directed Rhena, "and build up the fire while you're at it." Rushing over to Kho, Rhena took over the situation as she expertly disposed with the rest of Kho's articles and swathed him in dry, heated towels.

"Good heavens, such a fever," Rhena said, "I'd better keep him in here, it'll be easier with Lhurone to look after as well. But he's going to get pneumonia at this rate, I'm sure of it. Hatsuharu, put him on the cot, would you, dear? Haku, hold that thing steady, we can't have Kho roll headfirst into the fire!" We did as bidden. It broke my heart seeing Kho totally limp when he should have been so dynamic.

After we'd tucked him underneath several layers, Asheno told Rhena to leave. "It'll only be for a few minutes," he snapped when she protested. As the servants' door shut behind her, Asheno turned to us. "You will not go to school tomorrow. I will call and make excuses. I will get Khosure's address, and you will go to his home and fetch his personal belongings. You will give his guardians a letter written by me, informing them that he will be living with us from now on." Asheno began to stride purposefully towards the door, then stopped.

"As long as I am doing this, I shall also have the chauffeur fetch Hotohori after school. She should be here, with the rest of her proper family." Self-satisfied smirk. "So that makes five out of thirteen. Not bad." Door slamming.

I stood silently as I contemplated the misery that three more unfortunates would now suffer under Asheno. No doubt Hatsuharu was thinking similarly.

"Rhena you can come back now," I called. Judging from her response speed, she'd been standing right outside the door. She fussed over Kho, still out cold.

"Well, I for one am actually kind of glad we're not going to school tomorrow," Hatsuharu said, "because I wouldn't be able to concentrate with both Lhurone and Kho down." I smiled. Then it came to me—"Tori might still be ill," I said.

"She is," confirmed Hatsuharu. "Kho visited this afternoon."

"Did he get caught in the rainstorm after the visit?" inquired Rhena.

"Kho is flighty, Rhena," I said, "but he's not so stupid to get caught in a major rainstorm without good cover. I'm more inclined to think something bad happened. Look at his face." I had only just noticed it. The horrific greenish-yellow blotch covering a good portion of his left face. All three of us stared at it.

"What--?" sputtered Hatsuharu.

"I saw more bruises over his body while I wrapped him up," Rhena reported grimly. "Some cuts, even."

"So that's why he was having trouble talking on the phone yesterday," Hatsuharu said. "He's been abused. Goddammit!" He threw a chair down and stomped out of the room. I placed a restraining hand on Rhena's shoulder.

"Hatsuharu's a good man," I said, "but he gets frustrated if he can't protect all of us. Let him have some space first."

"So true." Rhena smiled, adjusting Kho's blankets. "What did you mean earlier, 'Tori might still be ill?' What's wrong with her?"

A long explanation of Tori's mysterious lung ailment followed. "The attacks have gotten worse, and they last longer. It may not have abated by tomorrow, and she's been sick for five days now."

"Oh, that's just horrible," Rhena gasped. She shook her head, checking Lhurone. "It just keeps piling on, doesn't it?"

"No kidding."

"Go on to bed, dear. No, you must get a fair sleep. I'll send Hatsuharu off, too, when he comes back. You'll both need it for tomorrow, I daresay. Kho's guardians are not likely to welcome you."

Haku didn't want to admit it, but he did need to go to bed. His body had started revenging itself on him for the turbulent weekend—every movement required his stubbornness to happen. He flopped into bed without even changing or pulling the covers over him. A deep slumber conquered him effortlessly.

Sometime in the early morning hours…

**"Haku."** Faran-Zhuku had returned. **"You see more now."** A lone flame tree blossom dancing in the blackness, to the tune of the hated song. A man's voice spoke, one that Haku had never heard before. A voice that was once pleasant, but now sad and…regretful?

"My little boy, you must be strong."

Haku found himself staring down a hallway, sunlit windows on one side and lockers on the other. He tried to look down, but his body didn't respond. Instead, he found himself running down the hallway, towards two girls in Karori uniforms, waving his arm and yelling in a girl's voice, "Zhula, Hana! Hellooo!"

The dark, shorter girl smiled. Haku felt a strange aura emanating from her, but his body continued the enthusiastic running.

"Lhoru, how are you?" said the dark girl. She had long black hair tied in a plait down her back. Her eyes were a piercing black. Haku noticed that her fingernails were painted deep purple.

"What's up, Lhoru?" grinned the tall, blonde girl. She wore a long skirt, contrary to Karori's usual knee-length rule. Her shoulder-length hair flapped over her right eye and she chewed gum nonchalantly. What? Haku realized he was in Lhoru's body. A girl's body…Haku uncomfortably came to terms with the fact that he had breasts now. This had never happened before—inhabiting one of his visions' characters' bodies. He could listen to Lhoru's thoughts, hear everything she heard, and see everything she saw. It felt intrusive.

"Lhoru, why are you so late today? Don't worry, we covered for you with the teacher," Blondie said, rubbing Lhoru's head and hugging her. She was easily a foot taller than the tiny Lhoru.

"Oh, I-I," stammered Lhoru as Haku listened, "umm…I walked to school with Shoma Huki. I ran into him on the way to school."

"Hmm. That explains why Huki's admirers have been watching you like hawks," murmured Purple Nails. "I shall have to do something if they become too violent."

"Now, Hana, easy, remember what happened the last time you used your waves on someone?" Blondie, who must be Zhula, said. "Besides, I shall also protect our dear Lhoru!" The distinct look in Zhula's eyes reminded me of Lhurone when he was still in a gang. He'd had the same appearance. Had Zhula been a gang member? If so, what was she doing with someone as sweet and un-violent as Lhoru? For that matter, what was Hana doing there? Haku found the three to be an odd trio.

The scene faded away. Now Haku, still in Lhoru's body, was walking on a street with Huki. Judging from Lhoru's thoughts, school had ended and Huki was walking her to her part-time job.

Huki was absolutely silent. This moody boy and Hana would be a good match, I thought idly. Clearly, Huki's depressed attitude concerned Lhoru.

"Thank you for walking me to school, Mr. Shoma," Lhoru piped up, "I'm so sorry to put you and your guardian through all this trouble." Wow, Lhoru was a polite one. Haku still didn't have a good sense of what year this was, but he was pretty certain that Lhoru was polite by any standards. Most kids didn't use honorifics in addressing their own classmates, even ones they didn't know well.

"It was no trouble at all," Huki replied, trying to reassure Lhoru. "We don't mind others admiring our Dzuni decorations." Haku thought he discerned a note of irony in that last sentence.

"They were lovely," gushed Lhoru. "Although I was sorry there wasn't one for the cat. I've always loved the cat." Huki's face visibly hardened, and he stopped walking.

"Huki?" chirped Lhoru. "I-I'm sorry if I said anything to offend you." Haku snorted inwardly; he was getting fed up with her apologizing constantly for no good reason.

Huki looked up and half-smiled. "No, you didn't offend me, Ms. Mileshi. But you would do well to forget the cat. The cat is a fool and has an unpleasant nature. Come, you'll be late for work as it is."

Oh-ho, this was getting interesting now. I wonder which animal of the Dzuni Huki is, Haku thought. Ah, I bet I know.

Lhoru, who had been standing stunned, ran to catch up with Huki.

Once again, the scene shifted. Now night had fallen. Haku had left Lhoru's body and was now a separate observer. Leafy trees surrounded him, and a dirt path lay under his feet. He recognized the forest around Shehure's house.

"**Later same night,"** narrated Faran-Zhuku, **"Soon Shoma secret reveal to Lhoru. You pay attention. Important."**

"Thanks, Faran-Zhuku. Wait…it's going to take a lot of visions to explain everything, isn't it?"

"**Yes. I told you. Take a while. Too important to mess up. Be patient."**

"Shehure, I'm getting tired of ordering delivery all the time," complained Huki as he and Shehure walked down the path towards Haku's spot.

"But you despise my cooking, dear Huki," whined Shehure.

"It is not natural to cook eggs with bean oil," Huki responded coldly.

"Huki, Huki," Shehure shook his head placidly, "you may be very intelligent, but you are quite the slothful housekeeper."

"And you're criticizing my housekeeping?" Huki cocked his left eyebrow.

"Perhaps it is time we had a flower in our dreary home to brighten it up," mused Shehure.

"Stop being a pervert. And anyway, having a woman in the house would cause problems."

"Oh, not if we were careful." Haku tried to recall what he'd heard about the curse. Let's see, Rhena had said that under the old curse, a dzuni would transform into his or her animal when hugged by a member of the other sex or when physically weak. So these dzuni had to actually avoid the other sex? How were they able to live in society? Haku felt surprised that Huki attended a coed school. How did Asheno, assuming he was their head, even allow Huki to attend in the first place? How much had Asheno changed since Shehure and Huki's generation of the curse?

"**Stop ask for now. Get answers sometime,"** scolded Faran-Zhuku.

Haku scowled, but his attention was drawn by Shehure suddenly stopping.

"I don't remember that tent being there before," he said, pointing to Lhoru's tent in the clearing. "I'm not renting this land to anyone, so we'd better go over and see who it is."

At that moment the tent flap opened and Lhoru, face flushed, crawled out with a towel in her arms. She looked up and saw the two men. Everyone froze, surprise etched on their faces.

"I-I-I," stammered Lhoru.

Shehure doubled over, laughing hysterically. "A girl living in a tent in the middle of a forest…ha ha haa!"

"Don't insult her, stupid," Huki remonstrated. He turned to Lhoru. "Lhoru, this is Shoma land."

"I'm sorry! I-I didn't know! But please let me stay-I'll pay rent! But I can't burden anyone else by moving in with them..." pleaded Lhoru. She swayed on her knees. A wolf howled. Shehure stopped laughing and listened.

"There's going to be a landslide!" he yelled as he grabbed Lhoru and pushed her to the path, Huki following close behind. Rumbling shook the ground as the muddy top layer of the small hill gave way and collapsed squarely on Lhoru's defenseless tent.

"My mother!" Lhoru frantically rushed back to the mud pile before Shehure or Huki could stop her. "The picture of my mother was in there!" She began digging through the tough mud with her bare hands. "Mother is hurt! Mother is hurt!"

"She's sick, Shehure, she has a fever," Huki said, worried. "Lhoru, please come back to our house. It's too dangerous here right now."

"Lhoru." Shehure stilled her digging hands. "If there's another mudslide and you get trapped, your mother will be even more hurt." Lhoru sobbed. "Hmm, she does have a fever. Come back to the house, Lhoru. All right? There, that's a good girl." Lhoru obediently rose, supported by Huki's arm.

Back at the house, while Shehure searched the filthy kitchen in vain for ice, Lhoru explained how she'd ended up living in a tent on Shoma land.

"When my mother died a month ago, my relatives argued over who would take me. I went to live with my grandfather. Then my aunt and uncle started remodeling their house, so they came to live with Grandfather, b-but there wasn't enough room for all of us. So Grandfather asked me if I could live with some friends. I couldn't burden Zhula and Hanadzima, Zhula lives in a tiny apartment and Hana has seven people at her house. I-I was going to live on my own someday, so why not start now?" She lightly shrugged her frail shoulders. "I used my savings to buy that tent, and I managed nicely…" She fell to her side.

"It's okay, Ms. Mileshi, don't overdo yourself," Huki said, helping her stand up. "We'll take care of you until you're better." He guided her to a side parlor, where Shehure had set up a mattress on the floor. "Here, lie down."

"I-I couldn't p-possibly…" began Lhoru.

"No, you will stay here." Huki stopped her firmly. Shehure had finally found some ice and placed it on her forehead. He sat next to her.

"Just relax, Lhoru," Shehure smiled reassuringly. "Being hard on yourself is not good when you're ill."

"But if I had just said good-bye to Mother that morning, this wouldn't have happened…I stayed up late studying, Mother wanted me to go to high school so I could have a better life than she did, she had to work so hard. I promised her. I promised…"

"I'm very sorry," whispered Shehure.

"I lost my home, my picture…can't let Mother down…" Lhoru's eyes closed, and she drifted into a sound sleep.

Shehure glanced up at Huki, who'd been listening.

"I wish I were as strong as Ms. Mileshi," Yuki whispered sadly, "I could have run away from Asheno and lived in a tent in the forest, but instead, I only run to another Shoma house. I'm not strong enough to free myself from the Shomas."

"Huki," chuckled Shehure, "you and Lhoru have entirely different spirits. If that's how you see things, you have some growing up left to do, I'd say."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Huki acquiesced, the merest hint of a smile appearing on his lips. "Can you look after her for a little while? I'm going to go dig up her stuff."

"Alone?"

"When I did I say I was going alone?" Huki's purple eyes caught the moonlight, and Haku saw thousands of rats gathering outside the windows.

"So your friends will help you. Fine, but be careful," Shehure smiled.

Huki can talk to rats, thought Haku. I did think he was the rat. He remembered one time when his class went on a field trip to a farm in fourth grade, and the bull had tried to charge Hatsuharu. As far as he could remember, dogs had always acted terrified around Haku.

"Wake up, Haku, you need to get dressed and have breakfast," Rhena yelled, shaking him by the shoulders. "I'm glad to see you sleeping so well for the first time in years, but really, you shouldn't see Asheno with nothing in your stomach. You'll need your strength!" Haku blinked, seeing the picture of flame tree flowers tacked on the wall opposite his pillow.

"When did that get there?" Haku wondered out loud.

"Oh, I found it in the trash and I thought it was absolutely shameful of you to waste such a pretty drawing, so I taped it up there," Rhena responded, pulling him out of the bed.

"Do you know what they are, Rhena?" Haku asked as he started pulling on his socks.

"Heavens, no, I've never seen such flowers. But it would be so nice if they actually existed."

An unaccountable sadness filled Haku. The flame trees had been dead for so long that Hothans had forgotten what the flowers even used to look like. It was all so…unfair, Hoth being deprived of something so lovely.

Faran-Zhuku, exhausted from the unusually long vision (at least his strength continued to grow), agreed with Haku. But, at the same time, Faran-Zhuku knew that such beauty masked darker elements. It would be a long time yet before the boy would understand the duality that lay behind the flame trees, thought Faran-Zhuku.


	12. Chapter 14

Hello! Thanks to those of you who've read this far! There's still almost forty chapters left...yep, took a long time to write this. Here's the new FB character who makes a cameo: KyoLhadoman.

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and I don't own FB or anything else you may recognize.

**Chapter 14**

"Sire, is this the right address?" asked the chauffeur uneasily.

"Yes, it is," sighed Hatsuharu, reexamining the slip of paper yet again. Asheno had obtained Kho's address from the school earlier that morning. The car had stopped in front of a shaggy hill leading up to a row of dilapidated houses. Well, "house" was giving too much credit; these building were brick shacks on their last legs.

"This is where Kho lived?" Haku said, disbelievingly. "No wonder Asheno seemed so pleased," he added as a bitter afterthought.

"Let's get this over with." Hatsuharu, his face set in grim determination, stepped out of the car and slammed the door. Haku followed suit, still staring at the hill. He'd never seen Ghunene before. The memories of the mugging remained fresh in Hatsuharu's mind, however, and he felt himself becoming gladder by the moment that Kho was now at the Shoma compound. Even so, better to move quickly. The fancy car stood out in sharp comparison to the jalopies and overall condition of the neighborhood.

The two struggled up the hill, covered in slippery mud from the storm yesterday.

"That's weird," remarked Haku, as they ascended the top, "the door is just hanging open." Generally, no one in Hoth let their doors remain open, including residents of poor areas. The unpredictable weather made it too risky. Haku and Hatsuharu stepped over the threshold.

"Ohhh…" groaned Hatsuharu. Their eyes took in the cramped, dirty front room with empty bottles and trash littering the floor. In one corner was a minimal kitchen, with a wheezy stove, clogged sink, and a barely visible mini-refrigerator.

"I see why Kho never talked about his home life," said Haku. "Where's that woman, his guardian? Maybe she's out at work…or drinking."

"Drinking, I'd say, judging from the bottles."

"Doesn't smell too good either." Haku, cursing his sensitive nose, put a handkerchief over his face.

"Maybe you should stay out-wait, what's this? A pile of ashes?" For the first time, they noticed the large pile of gray ashes with a worn dress crumpled within it. They stared at the heap for a long time.

"I'm beginning to understand why Kho was out in the rain without anything on," Haku spoke slowly. "I get the feeling he inadvertently released his dzuni power and was terrified out of his mind. Maybe those eyes of his aren't just pretty. In any case, looks like we won't have to worry about his guardian."

"_Ghosi_…let's get his things, if he has any." Giving the ash pile a wide berth, Hatsuharu opened the small door that led to Kho's room, revealing the crammed cot and minuscule table. Haku followed close by.

"Not much here, as we thought," Hatsuharu said, kneeling down under the bed. "Here's a box." He opened it, and the boys saw the two stuffed snakes, the fabric swatches, a sewing kit, and the slightly torn photo.

"That little girl looks just like Kho," Haku said, taking the photo in his hand. He thought, I wonder which Shoma this girl was.

"Mother of Khosure. She dead," spoke Faran-Zhuku abruptly and matter-of-factly, inside Haku's mind. An image of the little girl in a pink dress with red flowers embroidered along the hem appeared before Haku's eyes.

"Daddy, am I your pretty little princess? Am I?" she sang in a high voice. The vision clouded, and faded. Oh no, thought Haku. I'm sure Kho doesn't know she's dead, and knowing him, he's fantasized that he'll be reunited with her. I can't tell him…A much worse question loomed: what about the other dzuni's parents? His own?

"Haku, careful, you'll ruin that photograph," Hatsuharu scolded, folding Kho's few clothing items on top of the box. Haku blinked and saw the photo crinkling in his too-tight grip.

"Sorry, here," he muttered, tucking the photo in a safe place under the clothes. Haku grabbed Kho's school bag and supplies.

"Let's get out of here," he strode out, fighting back tears. Hatsuharu had to hurry to catch up.

When they returned to the compound, Haku first went to Asheno to tell him that they'd completed their errand.

"Did you have any difficulty with his guardian?" Asheno asked.

"No, we didn't," Haku replied. Better for Kho if he didn't divulge the full details of Kho's guardian's complete liquidation. "Asheno, may I ask a question?"

"I'm in a good mood today, so yes, you may."

"Were you aware of Kho's living conditions?"

An affected look of concern formed on Asheno's face. "No, I had not known that he'd moved before today." Indifference replaced the fake concern. "Such a shame, that a Dzuni had to live in such a place."

"Yes, it is a shame," concurred Haku, silencing his impulse to ask Asheno why the hell he'd made their lives miserable on purpose. He hated the way Asheno looked so superior, as if he really had any control over them.

"You may go now. Oh, one more thing. Hotohori's arrival shall be delayed a few days. Her guardians inform me she is still too weak from illness to move."

"Thank you. Have a good day, Asheno."

When will it all end? Haku wondered as he walked towards the sickroom, where Kho was delirious from fever and Lhurone drifted in and out of a painkiller-induced confusion. Haku should probably try to talk to the ghost later, but did he want to?

"I'm afraid of what he'll say!" screamed a deeply-buried portion of Haku's psyche. **_You strong_**, the wolf had told him. "But can I handle it?" thought Haku. He opened the sickroom door. The fire roared.

"So little? What kind of place did Khosure live in?" Rhena demanded of Hatsuharu as she browsed Khosure's possessions.

"You don't want to know," Hatsuharu replied, checking on Lhurone, who was mumbling, "Yeeeaaahh, I wanna hamster gurng anh emmm…"

Rhena took the stuffed snakes and arranged them on a little table next to Khosure's bed. "I'll find a decent frame for this photo, it's half torn apart as it is," she decided, departing through the servants' door. The door closed with a soft click. Haku collapsed into an easy chair on the opposite side of the fire from the restless, rasping Khosure.

"Kho's not doing well, is he?" asked Haku wearily.

"Rhena said he's really ill, it's pneumonia. He kept asking for his mother throughout the night. I hope that wasn't his mother he accidentally killed," whispered Hatsuharu.

"No, he was talking about that photograph, I'm sure of it."

"Think Kho's real mother is still around?" Hatsuharu's eyes had a hopeful glint for a moment. It didn't escape Haku.

"Don't know." Haku shrugged his shoulders as noncommittally as he could, desperately seeking a way to change the subject before he betrayed the truth. He couldn't decide whether to tell Hatsuharu or not. "Oh, Asheno told me Tori's still too sick to come."

"Does he know about Tori's illness?"

"He doesn't seem to."

A woman's voice invaded Haku's thinking. "Honey, what's wrong with Tori? Can't we do anything?"

"It's not asthma, it's not lung cancer, it's not known to any medical source," answered a worried man's voice. "Maybe he'll outgrow it…I have a friend who…" The voices disappeared.

I can't deal with this now, Haku thought. "Hatsuharu, I'm going to take a nap."

"See you."

The wolf wasted no time. Instead of a peaceful nap, the visions sucked Haku into their grip once again.

"No," protested Haku, "can't you let me rest for just a little bit?"

**"You behind, need catch up. Many year go by before I able to start."** Haku resigned himself to his fate.

It was the morning after Shehure and Huki had saved Lhoru from the mudslide. Shehure and Huki sat at the dining table, Shehure reading the newspaper and Huki eating leftovers from last night's takeout. Outside, it rained steadily. Plastic bags sat on the floor next to Huki.

A sliding door squeaked open, revealing Lhoru standing in her pajamas, dark circles under her eyes.

"Good morning, how's our fragile little flower feeling?" chirped Shehure, folding the newspaper.

"Shehure! Don't be a pervert!" snapped Huki.

"Oh, I feel much better, thank you so much," Lhoru said, bowing deeply then stumbling.

"No need for bowing," Shehure said, catching her. "You'll know us well enough soon, I'm sure."

"Shehure—" began Huki.

"Tell us, Lhoru, how do you like housework?" queried Shehure. Confused, Lhoru blushed.

"I like housework very much. I'm good at it, if I may say. I cook, too."

Shehure grinned. "That settles it! You can stay with us from now on, and do the housework and cooking in lieu of paying rent. I'm sure Huki won't object, right, Huki?"

"Uh, no, I don't." Huki had to admit having a good cook in the house sounded very, very attractive.

"We'll give you your own room, Lhoru. It'll be much safer than living in a tent in the middle of a hilly forest prone to mudslides and the odd molester or two walking around. You can stay until your grandfather can take you back. How does that sound, Lhoru?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly…" Lhoru started, slipping into the now-familiar pattern of frantic gesticulation.

"We wouldn't ask you to stay unless we wanted to," Huki interjected firmly, ignoring Shehure's smirk.

"Okay…I'll stay, then. But are you sure I won't cause you any trouble?" Lhoru said, hesitatingly.

"Welcome to the Shoma house!" sang Shehure, oblivious to Lhoru's question. "We'll need to have an extra key made for you, and you can use the spare room on the second floor, it'll be a bit musty, so best open the window when the rain stops…Huki, be a gentleman and escort her upstairs."

Huki picked up the plastic bags. "Here, Lhoru, I dug out your things from the mudslide, including the picture of your mother." He handed a smaller bag to her.

Lhoru hugged the bag. "I don't know how to thank you, you've done too much for me already." She followed Huki up the stairs.

"Ms. Mileshi, relax. You're pushing yourself too hard. That's probably why you got sick. This room here is the bathroom, over there is my room…" pointing to doors as they walked down the narrow hallway, "…and over here is Shehure's room, which he rarely uses. Just slow down once in a while and be yourself. Ah, here's your room."

As Huki stepped through the door, Haku heard Lhoru's awed voice in his mind: "Mother said the same thing once. 'Slow down and be yourself.' The Prince really is so kind." So poor Huki was known as "the Prince" at Karori? For a moment, Haku imagined the throngs of lovesick girls pining after Huki at school. He must hate it, Haku thought, he doesn't strike me as the kind who'd respond well to that kind of treatment.

The room was plain and simply furnished, with an old bed, a wooden nightstand and a spacious dresser. Set in a corner of the house, there were plenty of windows to admit natural light. When the sun shone, it would be a pleasant room. Huki placed the bags in the middle of the floor.

"I'll lend you some of my clothes until yours have been washed," Huki said, walking back out the door, "Yours are filthy from the mud."

"Oh no—"

"I insist." Huki half-smiled, and started to go when a tremendous crash happened. Part of the roof gave way, giving rise to a clatter of wood and plaster, and a thick cloud of dust. Lhoru, shocked, turned away from the window she'd been gazing out of. A few feet in front of her, stood a boy with bright orange hair, wearing loose khaki pants and an old blue T-shirt, dripping from the rain. A bracelet of red and white beads wound around his right wrist, and he was a few inches taller than Huki. He took no notice of Lhoru; his back was turned to her.

"Ready to die, you damn rat?" growled Orange Head, curling his hands into fists.

"Back for another defeat, Lhado?" said Huki in a low voice. His purple eyes burned with annoyance and anger.

"Be a man and face me, you—" Lhado raised a fist. "Wha—yaaagh!"

Haku watched as Lhoru, concerned about the imminent fight, wrapped her arms around Lhado's torso from behind. A loud pop exploded, accompanied by a burst of reddish dust.

"Oh, no," groaned Huki, putting a hand to his head.

Lhoru found herself looking into angry amber eyes. She was holding a bright orange cat in her arms. But there had been a boy there only seconds before…Rain dripped onto her from the hole in the roof above.

"I heard a lot of noise, is Lhado back?" Shehure asked, appearing in the doorway. Huki buried his face in Shehure's shoulder, and Shehure saw the orange cat in Lhoru's arms. "Ah, I see…"

"Aaaahh! I hit him, didn't I? And he turned into a cat!" yelled Lhoru.

"Well, yes…uh, no, you see…" Shehure started.

"He's seriously hurt!" Determination came over Lhoru. "We must get him to a hospital so he can get some—" A piece of loose debris fell from the room and smacked Lhoru in the head. She swayed, and fell into Huki and Shehure.

Two pops occurred in rapid succession, followed by clouds of blue and gray dust. When she regained full awareness, Lhoru saw a purple-eyed rat and a large black dog looking back at her. The orange cat writhed in her arms.

"You're all animals!" she gasped. "I need to get help!" She started to stand up, but a bark stopped her.

The dog spoke, "There's no getting around this, so I'll just tell you."

The rat climbed up to the dog's head. "That idiot."

"Who're ya callin' an idiot?" hissed the cat.

"Be quiet, both of you!" barked the dog. The cat curled itself up, facing the wall, hissing. The dog returned its gaze to Lhoru. "Basically, I, Shoma Shehure, am the dog, Shoma Huki is the rat, and Shoma Lhadoman is the cat. For hundreds of years, the Shoma family has been cursed. We don't know how the curse came about, but here it is. Thirteen members of the Shoma family turn into animals of the Dzuni when they are hugged by members of the opposite sex. We also transform when we become physically weak, usually when we're ill. We have no special powers, other than being able to communicate with our respective animals. After a while, we change back to human form, but the durations of the transformations is fickle."

Lhoru heard a pop, pop, pop, and three naked men appeared before her. "Eeeek!" she yelped, face burning, averting her eyes hurriedly.

"And when we transform back, we're always naked," Shehure cheerily finished as he strapped his hekasho back on. "Sorry, Lhoru, if you saw things you weren't ready for." Huki and Lhadoman quickly dressed themselves.

Eventually, Lhoru recovered sufficiently to face them again. Lhadoman continued to sulk, facing the wall. "You are all right, aren't you? You're not hurt?" Lhoru asked the three.

"Lhoru, Lhoru, the transformation isn't painful, stop worrying about us," Shehure shook his finger. "But you should be worrying about that bump forming on your head this very second. Oh, Lhoru, now that you've met the cat, what do you think?"

"The cat! That's right!" exclaimed Lhoru happily. Huki frowned. Lhoru walked over to Lhadoman. When she reached out for his shoulder, Lhadoman twitched.

"Don't touch me!" yelled Lhadoman belligerently. "What the hell is a GIRL doing in this house anyway? I can't believe Asheno would ever allow that! It's bad enough I'm here in the first place!"

Asheno! Haku stiffened at the mention of the hated name. Their talking about Asheno confirmed his suspicions that these visions were about the recent past. These might even be the parents of the current Dzuni. He could be looking at his own father even now.

"No, keep watch," Faran-Zhuku interrupted, "You see this because need know all about previous Dzuni. Especially see and know all Asheno do."

"Well, it's true that a big family secret has now been revealed to an outsider," said Shehure, hand on chin. Still, he didn't look so very concerned. "I will have to tell Asheno, the head of the family, about you. It'll be up to him to decide whether you stay or go." Huki's face visibly tensed and a dark shadow passed over it. In Huki, Haku recognized all the signs of a victim of Asheno. He himself had a similar reaction whenever he heard Asheno's name. Suddenly, Haku swelled with sympathy for Huki, and quite possibly Shehure and Lhadoman as well. Lhoru would probably suffer much when Asheno was told, Haku predicted.

"Of course. I have stumbled upon a very big secret, and it's only right you should tell your family head," said Lhoru. "I will obey whatever decision he makes."

"In the meanwhile, why don't you go downstairs and look after that bump? There should be an ice pack in the first aid kit in the living room," suggested Shehure. Lhoru nodded and trotted away.

As soon as he judged Lhoru safely out of hearing range, Huki turned to Shehure and whispered in a furious tone, "Asheno will order her memory erased won't he?" His arms fell limply to his sides. "Just like last time," he finished, bitterly.

"I have no reason to think he'll want to erase her memory," Shehure reassured Huki. "Last time we had no choice because too many people found out about the secret. But it's only one girl now."

"It's not right for a girl to be in this house! It's too dangerous!" Lhadoman bellowed as he stormed out.

"I'm charging you for the damage to the roof, and apologize to Lhoru later!" Shehure shouted back.

"Not that I care, but where has that moronic cat been?" muttered Huki.

"He's been training in the mountains for the last four months with Shoma-mharu, so I heard. Fighting bears or something like that," shrugged Shehure.

"Stupid cat. He'll never win." After his dire pronouncement, Huki also stomped back to his own room.

Alone in the room, Shehure looked thoughtfully at the pile of debris under the hole. Slowly, he shuffled over to a window, leaned against the wall, and watched the falling raindrops. The sun in the room had diminished so that his profile stood out in sharp profile next to the window. The face looked relaxed, but the eyes were bright, alert, thinking. He began humming.

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, Spring is still far away,_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, And within the cold ground,_

_Shedal thathu lesim surokha ashu Starved seeds await warm sun_

_Su dho mhedosh han. And fresh silvery rain._

This man was trapped within a curse he longed to free himself from. He too, Haku was sure, had felt the pangs of hopelessness, anger and frustration, but most of all, the sadness. Everybody who fell under the curse's insidious spell, suffered.

"I want to be free, too! I understand!" Haku desperately hollered, before he remembered Shehure couldn't hear him.

"Lhoru may be the one," Shehure mused to himself. "She just might break the curse." Fright crossed his face. Then he smiled sadly, and started chuckling wryly. "Have faith in yourself, Shehure. Spring may not be so far away."

Haku sat up in bed, the vision gone. "Spring may not be so far away" rang over and over again in his head. The drawing of flame tree blossoms hanging on the opposite wall dominated his view.

"I want to be free," Haku said to the flat, unfeeling flowers. "I will be free."


	13. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, I don't. I also don't own anything else you recognize. Please R&R if you have the time :)

Oh, and a new cameo in this chapter. Kazuma is Khazuma (not much change there, hm?). "Shoma-mharu" is an honorific for a master of martial arts. You can tell I'm heavily influenced by what I see in manga...Also, later I accidentally wrote another scene where Asheno dared Lhado to beat Huki, forgetting what I'd already written in this chapter. I'd appreciate any feedback on which version you prefer after I get that chapter up in the future.

**Chapter 15**

Three days crawled by. Upon their return to school, Haku and Hatsuharu set themselves to the task of simultaneously catching up and preparing for the high school entrance exams, which were in two weeks. The purpose of these tests was not to determine who would enter which school; they only served as class placement exams. Long ago Asheno had decided that Haku, Hatsuharu and all the other Dzuni would attend Karori. Still, teachers and family pressed students to perform as well as possible on the tests. Hence the intense studying. Haku spent many hours late at night trying to bulk up in math and science, his worst subjects. History wasn't far behind, and language was no problem for him. The tests weren't an issue for Hatsuharu; he performed consistently well in all of his classes.

The visions had settled into more or less of a routine for Haku. The last few nights, after he fell asleep at his desk, visions stole into his dreams. Like before, sometimes Haku inhabited the body of one of the characters; other times he watched as an impersonal observer, separate from everyone else. However, it seemed that the wolf made Haku see the vision from another character's perspective more often, especially when Asheno was involved.

Haku had watched Lhoru adjust to life at Shoma Shehure's house. She gradually grew accustomed to Huki and Lhadoman's constant bickering and martial arts sparring, and Shehure's somewhat off-color comments continued to stymie her. For now, Lhoru kept her new residence a secret from her best friends, Zhula and Hanadzima. Two visions, in particular, left deep impressions in Haku's memory.

At the start of the first one, Haku was transported to Karori again. Huki and Lhoru were alone in a hallway, Huki looking very serious and Lhoru more than a little worried. After some furtive glances to make sure no one was around, Huki spoke in a low voice.

"You didn't tell your friends about us? About the curse?" he asked.

"Oh no! I would not do something like that!" Lhoru shook her head vigorously.

Huki sighed. "Your memory may be erased. We say erased, but it's more like hypnosis. The last time someone found out my secret…" he gulped.

A high-pitched child's voice spoke, "I didn't want to lose my friends." The voice had come from Huki's inner consciousness. The scene blackened as though a switch had been flipped, and a small, evanescent lavender circle appeared at a distance from Haku. A wind yanked Haku off his feet and sucked him into the softly pulsing circle.

He stood in Asheno's parlor, the same one where he'd had his disastrous audience with Asheno only the week before. It was nighttime, and no lights had been lit. Somehow, the room seemed much bigger than before. Haku realized he was in the body of Huki as a small boy, when he was no more than eight or nine.

Haku sensed the boy's considerable fright, both mentally and physically. His knees shook under the white and light blue hekasho, and his lungs tightened, an asthma attack threatening. Tears burned his eyes. In front of him, only the silhouette of Asheno lying on the chaise could be seen. In Huki's mind, Haku saw the image of a group of children playing, rolling in the grass, yelling with delight. Then a girl started running towards him, her arms outspread. Haku felt Huki's body tighten in the memory, as the girl hugged him and the now-familiar "pop" echoed like a death knell. All the children stood around the tiny rat perched atop the clothes Huki had been wearing, staring at him.

The flashback over, Haku heard little Huki's voice address the nearly invisible Asheno, with only the slightest quiver on the first word.

"Asheno, am I so strange that my friends' memories had to be erased?"

The smooth voice loathed by so many replied, "Of course. Is it not normal for a little boy to turn into a rat?"

"But I didn't want their memories to be erased."

"Huki, if people knew what you were, they would be disgusted. They would avoid you, make you a social outcast. Do you want that?"

"N-no."

"Then you will not play with your friends again." The sickly scent of dying flowers in the garden wafted through the air. Huki's suffocating sobs broke the silence.

Haku returned to the previous scene, where Huki and Lhoru still stood quietly in an empty hallway at Karori. Now Haku watched on his own again.

Finally Huki asked, "Do I…sicken you, Lhoru?"

"No, I feel fine today! So much better!" exclaimed Lhoru, smiling. Evidently she'd misunderstood the question.

"That wasn't…" Huki paused, then returned her smile. "Never mind, I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Why does Asheno want to see me?" Haku, inside a little boy's body, heard the young Lhadoman think as the seven-year-old cat crouched under the oldest, largest flame tree on the Shoma compound. "Old Blood," as the family called this tree, towered over northwest corner of the compound's main garden, its tortuous branches jealously guarding the terrace. Hardy vines crawled over the ancient stone walls, and feral flowers bloomed during the spring and summer months. The shaggy grass added a final touch to the corner's wild look. Lhadoman had always liked this part of the family garden best because it defied the orderly trimness of the rest of the gardens. Its wildness reflected his tumultuous relationship with the Shomas well. Whenever he came to the family estate, which wasn't often, he could always find comfort in the northwest corner, chasing a butterfly or exploring the windy, overgrown footpaths.

On this occasion, however, Lhadoman picked nervously at grass stalks. Asheno had not requested an audience with him since that time three years ago…when he ripped off Lhadoman's bracelet. The memory still stung. Lhadoman had seen the horror his true form inspired for the first time, that he could recall. His true form…automatically, Lhadoman checked to make sure the blood-and-bone bracelet was safely on his wrist.

Besides picking up Lhadoman's anxiety, Haku fought his own mental battle against an instinct to run away from the northwest corner, to elude the shadow that lay in wait for him behind Old Blood. Whenever he had come near the northwest corner, Haku sensed the stirrings of a dark revelation. The feeling had been vague, but potent and deeply frightening. The first time Haku had approached the northwest corner, when he was a year old and on a walk with Rhena and Hatsuharu, he began crying uncontrollably and didn't stop until Rhena rushed him back to the house. Since then, Asheno had told him severely on several occasions that he shouldn't be silly, that it was only his imagination, there was no monster in the northwest corner. To Haku one thing was certain: that feeling truly existed as a palpable entity.

So the vision proceeded, Haku desperately wishing it would end as soon as possible, trying not to look at Old Blood. Mercifully, Lhadoman trotted away from it in pursuit of a bird. A hidden root caught the boy's foot and he stumbled to the ground. When he looked up, he saw the bottom of a purple hekasho.

"Lying with his face in the dirt before the family head," observed a very young Asheno. Haku had never seen Asheno as a little child, even in family photographs. Here, he could not be more than twelve. Short, perfectly black hair framed the pallid, sharp lines of a beautiful face racked by recent illness. "How appropriate for the outcast cat."

Asheno's eyes looked down contemptuously.

"What do you want?" demanded Lhadoman, determined not to let his fear show.

"Uncouth as ever. I've recently heard that you want to join the Dzuni as an official member."

"Yeah." Lhadoman sat up, uncertain what direction this conversation was heading towards.

"Why should I let you join?"

"Because I'm a Dzuni, too. I should be in the Dzuni!"

"How dare you say that, after your mother started going crazy after seeing your true form when you were born! It's because of you that she killed herself and embarrassed the family!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"You inconvenience everyone. Your precious Shoma-mharu takes you in as a favor, and you repay him by causing trouble at school. You pester me, your god, who has more important things to do! The cat join the Dzuni? It'll never happen." The last words pronounced in a staccato.

"But—" Lhadoman cut himself off, squirming and looking at the ground.

Asheno smiled. The smile that meant he knew he had power over his precious Dzuni. Haku and Hatsuharu had not seen the insidious smile often, but Haku recognized it. The smile had appeared more often in the past few days.

"If you want to join so badly, I'll make a deal with you," Asheno spoke softly, bending down and tipping Lhadoman's chin upwards to face him. Inwardly, Haku grimaced at the repulsion from such close face-to-face with Asheno. Judging from the boy's mental reaction, Lhadoman felt the same.

"The day you defeat Huki in a martial arts battle," whispered Asheno, "is the day you join the Dzuni. As your god," emphasizing the "your", "I promise to stand by this if you miraculously defeat Huki. After all, it was the rat who prevented the cat from going to the banquet. It is only right that you should have to prove your worthiness by avenging yourself on the rat before you are allowed to join the Dzuni." He released Lhadoman's chin with a final superior sneer, and walked away without another word.

Momentarily confused, Lhadoman continued to sit. As the boy's mind seethed in turmoil, Haku overheard bits and snatches of overheard conversations:

"The rat is special, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, the rat is beautiful and intelligent. Not like that cat."

"Poor Shoma-mharu Khazuma. Throwing away his life on that thing."

"What is it? It's so ugly, and it stinks!"

"Yes, Khazuma's too young…"

"Lhadoman, come and have tea with me." A kitchen table in a sunlit room materialized, with cups and a china teapot set out. Haku saw an emaciated blonde woman, Lhadoman's mother, he assumed, sit in one of the chairs, and a pistol slowly rising towards her head…

"I will defeat Huki! I will!" screamed Lhadoman, fat tears rolling down his round cheeks. "I will become a real Dzuni!"

That vision stood out in Haku's memory with disturbing clarity. It had been the first time Faran-Zhuku had shown him a vision both emotionally and visually disturbing on so many different levels. Not only had he felt Lhadoman's intense fear, there was his own fear of the northwest corner and Asheno, then that last sight of Lhadoman's mother and the pistol.

Yes, thought Haku as he stopped by his school locker at the end of the day. The wonder was that he hadn't gone mad.


	14. Chapter 16

More Shoma kids losing control of their spirits...whoo! Includes fire and destruction!

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you may recognize is also not mine.

**Chapter 16**

_Hotohori_

At last. I was leaving the Zhuruths. Despite the slight, constant sensation of heat remaining in my chest, I had never felt better. No more listening to rich blowhards, no more Mother and her "Stop whining," no more evil, slutty older sister, no more perfect oldest sister, no more indifferent, spineless Father following Mother's lead in berating me. Now I would walk to Mhagenu, meet Kho, Haku and Hatsuharu as they left school for dismissal, and move into the Shoma complex. Granted, I had my misgivings about going to Haku and Hatsuharu's home; I'd heard nothing about it from them and it gave me a bad feeling. But I was leaving the Zhuruths!

I managed a little swing to the suitcase I carried, as well as my school bag with all my books. The rest of my possessions would be sent to the Shoma house later. I'd have a lot to catch up on—I'd missed a week and half thanks to this miserable attack. And with the exams coming up! Well, I could worry about that later. Right now I basked in the sunlight and reveled in my new freedom.

Earlier that morning, at breakfast, Mother told me to pack a suitcase and my schoolbooks.

"You're leaving today," she announced. "You won't be staying with us anymore. You'll move to the Shoma compound, where you'll live from now on. We'll send the rest of your things later."

"All right," I replied coolly as my insides rejoiced. A rational voice said, Find out more. "Why?"

"As you know, we're only your foster family. The head of the Shoma family put us in charge of you, with the expectation that you would return to the family when he decided. He gave us a handsome monetary compensation." Typical of Mother to focus on the money. "Three days ago we received the summons, but you were too weak to leave right away."

"I'm really a Shoma?" Admittedly, that came as a surprise.

"So it seems. I wouldn't know, nor do I particularly care." She sipped her cocoa.

"Does that mean my friends Haku and Hatsuharu will be there as well?"

"Haku and who? Oh, those worthless boys you spend time with. Yes, they're the head's official wards, but that's all I know."

Not another word had been spoken between us that day. I'd done my packing, and when I left, I only bowed stiffly to Mother and Father and said, "I thank you for caring for me." Mother just nodded curtly and Father did the same absentmindedly. Then the door closed behind me.

By the time I reached Mhagenu's front steps, I was breathing hard from the walk. My full strength still hadn't returned. I rested on one of the low walls enclosing the steps and awaited the flood of students departing for the day. The front doors began opening, and soon enough I spotted a mop of white hair on a tall boy.

"Hatsuharu!" I called with as much breath as I could muster. Luckily he heard.

"Tori!" he yelled back, waving. Weaving through the crowd, he came to my wall. Haku followed quickly.

"Tori, it's so good to see you again," Haku said, hugging me in a rare display of affection reserved only for his closest friends. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm much better, although I'm still a little weak and my lungs still hurt a little, but nothing like before." I smiled.

"What's with the suitcase? Oh," asked Haku, suddenly tensing, his eyes searching my face.

"I was summoned by the head of the Shoma family, so I'm moving to the compound now." I didn't know how much they knew of the whole business.

"Hm-mm," was all Hatsuharu said as his face similarly stiffened. The misgivings I'd stifled earlier started creeping back ominously.

"How much do you know about the Shomas, Tori?" Haku asked, almost gingerly.

"Nothing, really, you haven't told me much about your family."

Hatsuharu glanced sideways at Haku, and sighed, "We have a lot of explaining to do. The family chauffeur will be here any second. I'll take those bags for you."

"Can I see Kho first?" I'd gotten anxious as time passed and he didn't show. Normally he was never far from our side.

"Kho's also been removed to the Shoma complex," Haku said. "He's been very sick the last few days. That storm a couple of days ago, something scared him and he left his home without a coat on. Somehow he made his way to the complex."

"I knew it! That idiot!"

"Tori," Haku waved his hand, trying to calm me down, "he's in good hands, In fact, he's mending now. He's still a wreck, but he will get better, okay?"

A horn honked. Hatsuharu grabbed both of my bags and led me to the waiting car. It was very elegant—the kind of oversized, richly furnished sedan only a wealthy family could afford. I settled into the lush leather seat, and the boys sat across from me.

_Hatsuharu_

Truthfully, I wasn't happy that Tori was joining us now. She was a girl, Asheno was a man, and well, he could have ideas. If the expression in his eyes were any indication, Haku was worrying about the same thing. How could we possibly start telling her about Asheno? The curse? Kho? The ghost wolf? Everything that had happened?

Damn, I cursed to myself, I was so busy that I forgot to think about how to deal with Tori coming. Well, I had to start somewhere.

"Tori," I began slowly, "there's a lot that Haku and I have to discuss with you." Haku nodded in agreement. Tori looked at me; once again I wished she didn't have to get involved, like Lhurone, Kho, or everyone who'd run into Asheno.

"First, our guardian—the head of the family—is named Asheno." Best to give her a general warning first. Haku and I could explain the specifics later. "He has serious mental problems. Be careful around him."

"Actually, you shouldn't be alone with him," Haku jumped in. "We'll stick by you as much as we can."

"What's wrong with the man?" asked Tori, alarmed.

I looked at Haku for direction on where to go next. He took a deep breath.

"It has to do with a major family secret," he whispered, so the chauffeur couldn't hear. Tori had to lean forward. "You, me, Hatsuharu and Kho are all affected, as is another boy named Lhurone, who's also just come to the house, like you and Kho. More about Lhurone later. This secret—"

"We've arrived, sires," announced the chauffeur as he pulled into the gateway. The massive metal gates shut behind us with a bang as he drove on. Rhena came out, presumably because Asheno told her Tori would be arriving. We'd have to save further explanations for later.

Rhena smashed Tori into her plentiful bosom as Tori stepped out of the car. "You ARE as gorgeous as I thought you'd be! And so tall, too! Come, dearie, we'll get you all settled in. Haku, Hatsuharu, help us with her things." Tori almost fell.

"Rhena, she's still weak from illness," I reminded her, supporting Tori. "She also doesn't know anything yet, except that Kho and Lhurone are here," I added.

"Well, then, we must slap her into bed right away," Rhena declared. We went inside the main house.

Slapping her head, Rhena cried, "Oh, I forgot to have a room made up! How shameful of me! I'm so sorry, dearie, I'll take care of it right away!" With her usual gusto, she ran off into the servants' area, leaving us alone in the front parlor.

"I'm going to check on Asheno," Haku said, moving towards Asheno's wing.

I went to help the chauffeur with the bags, turning my back to Tori.

_Hotohori_

I paid no attention to the complex as I entered it for the first time. Instead, Kho occupied my thoughts. I wanted to see him, make sure he really was in good hands, although if Haku and Hatsuharu said so, I should believe them. But still, I wanted to see with my own eyes. Then this whole business about Asheno and the secret—that had me nervous. Next, I'd been practically smothered by a chubby housekeeper, who prattled about how gorgeous I'd turned out, just as she'd thought. I had absolutely no recollection of having met her before, and she herded me inside the house.

A burst of pain exploded through my right side. I didn't even have time to think, "Oh, no" before the same thing happened on the left. This time was different from all the previous attacks. The fat woman went off somewhere, and Haku and Hatsuharu turned away for whatever reason.

The pain intensified to the point where I felt disembodied, and walked like a sleepwalker. I instinctively knew where to go—some ancient, long-forgotten invisible presence urging me towards fresh air, the outdoors. A silver-haired figure stood in a doorway to my right, gesticulating, but it did not matter now. I heard nothing but the roaring in my ears, saw nothing except my path outdoors, felt nothing but the churning and burning in my lungs, smelt nothing but smoking cinders and rotting flesh.

Something grabbed my arm but I shook it off. Nothing could stop me now. I stood outside at last. In front of me stood a fountain. Water, my long-time enemy. As a child, I had never been able to bear swimming, and I only took the briefest of baths. I sank to my knees on the wooden floor. I smiled. With a sense of relief I released the fire that had been imprisoned for too long in my body.

"Tori!" Khosure yelled. He'd managed to drag himself out of bed, but Hotohori just walked by with a queer expression, almost like rapture. Suddenly he became afraid, but he'd sapped his strength walking to the doorway.

Hatsuharu had dropped the bags and tried to grab Hotohori's arms. But she shrugged him off. Haku came running, only to have Hatsuharu restrain him. The three boys followed behind Hotohori, to the wooden porch that formed the main entrance to the gardens. Khosure supported himself against a window frame, watching from the inside as Hotohori collapsed onto the porch.

"Tori, are you—" Haku was cut off by a tremendous roaring sound. A plume of searing fire erupted from Hotohori's mouth, sailing for fifty feet before destroying the water fountain, which had not yet been turned on for the season. Only a pathetic, ashy black stump remained. A sickly smell of sulfur and smoke permeated the air, making Haku nearly faint and Hatsuharu gag. Black smoke curled out of Hotohori's flaring nostrils and gaping mouth. Hotohori stood up, broke into a staggering run.

She collapsed again near the smoking ruins of the fountain. Even in his weakened state and the distance between them, Khosure could see Hotohori's eyes began to shift shape and dark red scales forming on her arms. Ripping cloth could be heard as her body morphed its shape from a human to the enormous, 75-ft long, undulated body of a four-legged, winged dragon. The dragon's underside glowed with lustrous dark wine-red scales, while the upper scales glimmered with a lighter blood-red color. The jade green eyes stood in stark contrast to the melody of reds that rippled in the light. The expansive, powerful wings were a softer, more transparent pink. The powerful, 40-ft tail whirled through the air and uprooted a fir tree that had stood for two hundred years. Muscular limbs dug dangerous claws into the dirt. The long, graceful neck wheeled back to look at the humans staring agape.

Asheno observed the entire scene from behind a curtain in his rooms.

"Hotohori, indeed," he muttered, completely overwhelmed. The scarlet dragon, in all its glory.


	15. Chapter 17

Long chapter here! It's the only chap this long, don't worry...For Hatori and Momiji fans, this is their first big appearance. Momiji turns into Nharu, and he still possesses a thick accent (though not German). BTW, my favorite FB characters are Shigure, Hatsuharu, and Hatori in that order.

Disclaimer: FB ain't mine, nor is anything else you recognize. (Drumroll)

**Chapter 17**

A genuine dragon is not an everyday occurrence, and it took a week to fully restore order to the estate. Several servants saw Hotohori in the five minutes before she returned to human form. Asheno was forced to seal the estate, and had the memories of everybody, but Rhena and his wards, erased. Those servants were dismissed and new ones hired promptly. Haku wondered if the person Asheno called for the erasing was the same one who had erased Huki's friends' memories.

After she'd reassumed her human form, Hotohori had lain on the ground completely stunned and naked. Hatsuharu covered in her in his jacket and carried her inside, Haku and Khosure tagging along.

"I feel so good," Hotohori had said dazedly, "like after a big sneeze."

"I always knew you could breathe fire, but never literally!" exclaimed Khosure, his eyes wide.

The three came to the sickroom, where Hatsuharu set Hotohori down on a sofa.

"What happened?" asked Lhurone, who'd heard the commotion. He was still bedridden, but he'd been off painkillers for a day. Khosure, short of breath, flopped onto his cot.

Rhena ran in, gray curls popping free from the tight bun. "Did Hotohori really turn into a dragon?" she whispered urgently.

"Yes," Haku said, spreading a blanket over Hotohori.

"Almighty…Can you look after everyone here while I deal with the servants? Asheno's closing off the estate and I'll need to help him. It'll take a while." Before anyone could reply, she vanished.

"Who turned into a dragon?" Lhurone inquired mildly.

"Hotohori, this girl here," said Hatsuharu. She's a close friend of ours from school. It sounds incredible, but she really did turn into a dragon."

"Hey, I believe you. Overnight I turned from violent to peaceful, and a monster wolf materialized out of nothing and killed my gang. A girl who turns into a dragon isn't such a stretch after that."

"So true," Hatsuharu smiled weakly.

"Could I have some water? My throat feels so dry," rasped Hotohori. She gulped down the glass Haku handed to her. The five teenagers sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the shrieks of panicking servants and Rhena bellowing at them to be quiet.

Hotohori spoke first. "Did I really turn into a dragon?"

"Yes! It was unbelievable!" Khosure said, propping himself up on one arm. "First this humongous fireball came out of your mouth, then you turned into a mammoth dragon the color of blood!"

"I can't believe my head didn't burst into flames," Hotohori muttered. "Ugh, my breath stinks. At least the pain in my chest is gone now. Why am I naked?"

"Your clothes were ripped apart when you turned into a dragon," explained Haku.

_Khosure_

How like Tori to focus on the practicals, like her head not blowing up. Even as a dragon, she is still so beautiful. All of my favorite reds…But that look in her eyes before she magically transformed made my heart quake; it bore a simply terrifying resemblance to the emotion I'd felt right before turning Cook into ashes. I was so relieved when she did nothing more than cause some property damage.

What if I accidentally killed my best friends with my eyes? Never again could I live with myself if such an unthinkable thing happened. I buried my head under a pillow.

"Kho, what are you doing?" Hatsuharu asked.

"Oh, all the yelling is driving me insane," I said, muffled.

Haku raised an eyebrow at Khosure's answer. Odd, that someone who yelled so much himself should be bothered by others' yelling. But all five were together now, and no one would disturb them for a while yet. He couldn't pass up this opportunity.

"Tori," Haku said, motioning towards the far bed, "I want to introduce you to Lhurone, a friend of ours from Shiwa. Lhurone, this is Hotohori."

Nodding politely to the black-haired boy, Hotohori took in the tattoos painted over his exposed shoulders and arms. Gang tattoos—she'd seen pictures of them in the newspapers. He had bandages wrapped around his chest. Strange, he seemed too serene for gang life. Lhurone smiled back at her and waved.

"Now that we're all here, I thought this might be a good time to explain a few things," Haku began. A few things? Quite an understatement. "As you've no doubt noticed by now, we all have some strange quirks. We're affected by a curse that has haunted the Shomas for several hundred years." No time to explain that according to Faran-Zhuku, it wasn't really a curse. He just had to get the basic facts across to them for now. "Fourteen members of the family are possessed by spirits. In the past, one of those members would be the "god," or the head of the family, and look after the other thirteen. The other thirteen would transform into one of the dzuni animals, the dzuni from the old legend, when they were hugged by the opposite sex or when they became ill." Khosure slowly crawled out from underneath his pillow, listening intently. "Apparently, the five of us are now touched by the curse, and Shoma Asheno is our 'god'. But the curse has changed with our generation." Doing his best to pull together what he'd picked up from Asheno, Rhena, and the wolf's visions, Haku explained the difference between the old manifestation of the curse and the current one. Seated in a comfy chair, Hatsuharu gazed into empty space.

"How do you know that our Dzuni are different from the ones before?" asked Khosure.

"Well…" hesitated Haku. He'd never told anyone else about the visions and voices. Even Hatsuharu didn't really know anything besides the bare fact that the visions and voices existed. "Uh…my particular Dzuni is the wolf…"

"The wolf's not part of the Dzuni, the dog is," corrected Hotohori.

"No, I mean a wolf, not a dog," Haku said. "I told you. The Dzuni curse has changed. The animals are different from the old legend. Hatsuharu and I have had a lot of trouble with Asheno because he expects us to be like the Dzuni of the past."

"You'll need to be careful around Asheno, but Haku and I will help you," Hatsuharu said.

"That one time Asheno spoke to me…" Lhurone reminisced, "I still get shivers when I think about it. He gives me a worse feeling than anyone I've ever known, and I came from a gang town."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

"Haku, your Dzuni…" Hotohori whispered, "have you changed into a wolf?"

"No, not exactly. Here, I'll show you. Faran-Zhuku, can you come out?" This time Haku was prepared for the cold draft.

"What…?" gasped Hotohori. Khosure clutched his blankets tighter. Lhurone's eyes widened as he struggled to sit up more. The giant wolf stood in their midst.

"Hello, Faran-Zhuku," Hatsuharu nodded at the wolf. Faran-Zhuku wagged his tail briefly in response.

"Hotohori, Khosure, Lhurone, meet Faran-Zhuku," Haku said as he mentally beseeched Faran-Zhuku to behave well.

"That's the same wolf I saw," Lhurone said softly. "Thanks for saving me, Faran-Zhuku." A short second later Faran-Zhuku stood by Lhurone's bed and licked his hand.

"What's wrong with him?" Hotohori asked. "He's missing chunks of fur."

"Um, he's been imprisoned for a long time, and it hurt his mental and physical health," Haku struggled for a coherent explanation. "He's still recovering, so he becomes wild sometimes. Whenever he's strong enough to, Faran-Zhuku plays visions and voices from the past inside my mind. He uses them to tell me the story of the Dzuni curse."

"Can you control him?" Khosure asked nervously. Those teeth and claws looked a little too real to him.

"Somewhat…He's accidentally killed a few people the last few weeks," admitted Haku. "I don't fully understand how our relationship is supposed to work yet, but it seems he's closely tied with my emotional state, and when I get upset, I lose control over him."

"So I'm not the only one then," Khosure's voice quavered, "I killed someone, too, but I didn't mean to!" Sobs escaped from his weak lungs.

"Your guardian, right?" Hatsuharu asked, sitting down next to Khosure and putting his arm around the slender shoulders. "We went to your house today, and saw the pile of ashes. It's okay, just let it out."

"She was going to hit me with a broken bottle," wailed Khosure, covering his eyes, "and I got scared and grabbed her arms to stop her. Then this…feeling came over me, I felt so happy, so strong. My eyes tingled, there was a flash, and then…" The sobbing became hysterical.

"You didn't know, like the rest of us," Hatsuharu soothed him.

"Your guardian deserved to die," stated Hotohori furiously. "I knew she was beating you."

"Tori!" Haku hissed. "Kho, now…"

"I'm afraid I'll kill you all!" whimpered Khosure. Faran-Zhuku nudged Khosure's rib. "I don't even know how I did it, much less how to stop it!"

**"Not worry," **rumbled Faran-Zhuku. Everybody but Haku twitched. **"Only use eyes when you in danger."**

"Really?" Khosure wiped his eyes, after getting over his initial shock. "What am I, anyway?"

**"You the great snake. No remember right name now."**

"And me?" asked Lhurone, "Am I a horse like Asheno says?"

**"A special kind. Hatsuharu a bull, and Hotohori the dragon of fire." **Faran-Zhuku twitched and bit his forearm. His mind was beginning to slip. Haku realized this and silently ordered him back inside. The ghost disappeared.

"What happened?" Hotohori asked.

"Faran-Zhuku was starting to want to attack people," explained Haku, "he gets those urges every so often."

"He knows everything about our Dzuni, doesn't he?" Hotohori said. "Why can't he give us a full explanation?"

"You saw for yourself the state Faran-Zhuku's in," replied Hatsuharu, "he's not that strong yet. And besides, he prefers to talk to Haku."

"I don't know that much, I've only seen and heard mostly little bits at a time, and anything longer than that goes at a very slow pace," Haku said. "He insists on telling me everything about the previous group of Dzuni. He keeps telling me it's important to understand what happened back then."

"That's all very well, but THIS is happening now," pointed out Hatsuharu. "You've seen how inadvertently dangerous things get with us. We need to be better prepared."

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't force Faran-Zhuku, he has a mind of his own, however poorly it's working right now," snapped Haku.

"You mean you won't tell us," accused Hatsuharu. The two glared at each other.

Hatsuharu sighed. "Very well, we shouldn't fight. Asheno is enough to deal with as it is."

"Yes, tell us more about Asheno," Lhurone added. The rise in tension had made him uncomfortable. Hotohori had remained silent, but she, too, thought Haku had held back. However, she was sure that Haku had been telling the truth when he said he didn't know very much about the Dzuni yet. There were other things he didn't want to discuss…

"No, I don't want to talk about Asheno now," Haku got up, making the chair screech against the hard floor. His eyes locked briefly with Hotohori's sharp jade ones, then he left, slamming the door. Hotohori huddled under the blankets, pulling them closer to her chin.

'Haku is scary sometimes, I often can't tell what he's thinking," Khosure said in a hushed voice.

"He's a very angry person," observed Lhurone. "This Asheno has done a lot of damage to Haku, hasn't he?"

_Hatsuharu_

That finished me, when Lhurone said the bit about Asheno and Haku. I hadn't meant to yell at Haku, but I wished he would tell me what was going on with him.

"Doesn't Haku know he can trust me?" I blurted. Damn, I didn't want to worry the others.

"But he does," Tori said, with great feeling. "I'm sure that he just doesn't want to concern you. If the shape Faran-Zhuku is in is any indication, this whole Dzuni business is much more complicated than Haku told us. I can barely process what he told us; I can't even imagine what the ghost must've been telling him. Give him some time."

"You're dear to Haku," smiled Lhurone. "Really, the only reason he tolerated me was because I was your friend."

"Don't worry, Hara!" piped Kho, doing his best to look bright despite obvious fatigue.

"Thanks," I said, grinning. "You're right, this will take some time to sort out. But while we're at it, I might as well tell you about Asheno…"

_Haku_

I shouldn't have walked out on them the way I did. But how could I explain to them? How could I convey the fear, anxiety, and sweet sorrow accompanying my visions and voices? My own fears? If I had all of eternity to explain, I wouldn't be able to. Shaking, I sank to the floor of my room. Freedom…freedom from Asheno, freedom from this house, freedom from the past, freedom for all of us.

**"But what kind freedom you want?"**

"I…I…wa-want…" Fruitlessly I searched for the right words.

**"You not know until you understand what you want."**

"I want to forget everything that's happened!"

**"Forget everything? Really? You think memory so bad?"**

"You know damn well there are things I'd rather forget."

**"You so certain you better off no memories?"**

"Shut up. Why must you torture me like this?"

**"It make you strong. Old saying: 'That stand through harithe, stand anything.'"**

That night, Faran-Zhuku introduced Haku to two more members of the previous Dzuni: the rabbit and, naturally, the dragon.

At Karori, brightly-painted wooden stands lined the hallway. Crepe ribbons hung from the ceiling, and handpainted signs advertised all manner of food, drinks, and games. Feisty music resounded through the hallways as a background complement to chattering and excited yelling. Culture Festival Week was in full swing—with booths dedicated to various aspects of Hothan, Zi Aldan and Gogothan culture.

Lhoru stood smiling behind piles of piles of brightly-wrapped gift bags, under a sign saying, "Zi Aldan Mystery Sweets: A Surprise in Every Bag!" Other teenagers from her class subdivision chatted with their fellow students or assisted customers. Lhadoman helped Lhoru with the money; this was one of the most successful booths. Huki, dressed in a traditional Zi Aldan ceremonial outfit, served as the walking advertisement. The usual gaggle of students, male and female alike, hovered near Huki, who kept his eyes downcast.

"_Tsein_!" A boy hardly bigger than a twelve-year-old jumped onto Huki's shoulders. A thick mop of blonde hair and round brown eyes peeked over Huki's head. ";As 'Eiuki torned into a Zi Aldayn?" The boy spoke with a curious accent, slurring the Hothan vowels and dropping his h's. Nobody really noticed though, because they were too busy staring at the frilly pink shirt and purple cap with a red rose in it.

"Agh!" yelped Huki, staggering under the sudden weight. "What are you doing here, Nharu?"

"I cayme 'eir for the feistival!" shrieked the boy.

"Nharu, behave yourself," a cool voice spoke. Haku recognized the male version of Tori that he'd seen in previous visions. He was attired professionally, in dark gray suit pants, a vest and a dark green tie that complemented his eyes perfectly. Dangling tresses of auburn hair covered his right eye completely.

"Hathori!" hissed Huki, curling his hands into fists.

"Are they Shomas, too?" whispered Lhoru to Lhadoman beside her.

"Yeah, but what's Hathori doing here?" Lhadoman replied, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"Eis this L'oru?" Nharu bounced off Huki's shoulders and eagerly hopped in front of Lhoru. Huki massaged one shoulder, frowning.

"Lhoru, this is Shoma Nharu, my cousin," Huki said. "And this is Shoma Hathori, the family doctor. Nharu, Hathori, this is Mileshi Lhoru." Nharu bowed extravagantly, and Hathori politely dipped his head.

"You really are an ordinary girl," remarked Hathori, earning glares from both Huki and Lhadoman. In an aside to the boys, Hathori whispered, "I'm not here to do anything to Lhoru. That is for Asheno to decide."

"But what are you doing here?" demanded Huki.

"You should be glad—Asheno was going to come until I discovered he had a high fever and ordered him to bed." Huki's cheek quivered slightly.

The one who erased memories…"He seemed so sad"...Rhena's recollection dominated Haku's mind. But Hathori seemed so frigid, not like a man burdened by great personal tragedies. Or perhaps the frigidity was only a frail mask that would be easily peeled away. Certainly, no reason existed for the family doctor, and a Dzuni at that, not to be pushed around by Asheno as Huki and Lhadoman had been so far.

"Yoo know about the family seicrit, right?" Nharu asked Lhoru, who nodded cheerfully in response. "Then yoo woun't mind eif I 'ug yoo!" A large hand on his head kept Nharu from plunging into Lhoru's arms.

"Remember where you are, Nharu," Hathori sternly remonstrated. "There are consequences if certain events were to unfold."

"_Tsein_, Arei, yoo're so meayn!" whimpered Nharu, nonetheless obediently hopping back to Hathori's side.

"We should get back to the main house, Asheno will be concerned." Hathori bowed. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Mileshi."

"Ah'll cohme visit soon, L'oru!" Nharu yelled, running to catch up with Hathori, whose longer legs far surpassed Nharu's in gait.

A lull followed in the festival activity. It was almost closing time, and most of the visitors' stomachs were full of goodies and thick, refreshing drinks. Huki joined Lhadoman, who moved to the other side of the booth, and Lhoru in organizing the money and the few leftover bags. The gray-haired boy counted the money slowly, clearly preoccupied. Lhadoman kept glancing at him and fidgeting. He never liked being close to Huki.

"Lhoru," Huki began haltingly, "Remember when I told you that my friends' memories were erased when I was younger? Hathori was the one who suppressed their memories." Lhoru's eyes widened in surprise. "Please, promise me that you will never let yourself be alone with Hathori."

Haku heard Huki's words bouncing around Lhoru's head: suppressed, suppressed, the one who suppressed their memories…memories…

"Attention. Paging Mileshi Lhoru, Section 6, Class 1," boomed the loudspeaker. "Please report to the conference room on the second floor. Repeat, paging Mileshi Lhoru…"

"What could they want?" asked Lhoru, mystified, walking towards the end of the hallway.

"I'll pick you up at work later," Huki called after her.

At the conference room, Lhoru cautiously pushed open the door.

"Lhoru? Is that you?" Hathori's voice came through. "Come in. I'm sorry I had to summon you like this, but with Huki and Lhadoman around, I couldn't talk to you properly." Hathori sat at the table, fingers drumming the surface impatiently. Nharu perched on a windowledge, and leapt up when Lhoru entered, visibly panicked.

"Oh, no," Lhoru thought, "here I am alone with Hathori right after Huki told me not to…what will I do? Is he going to suppress my memories?" Her burst of worrying prevented her from noticing Nharu flying at her until the inevitable "pop" filled the room. A cream-colored rabbit with Nharu's brown eyes cuddled in Lhoru's arms.

"Oh, Nharu," groaned Hathori, "stop wasting time. This is important."

"Areiii!" whined Nharu.

"Anyway," Hathori reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small card. "This is the address of the main Shoma estate. Come visit me on your next day off; we have much to discuss. And don't tell Huki, Lhadoman, or anyone else, this is to be secret."

Lhoru mutely accepted the card, balancing the rabbit on the other arm. A visit? She looked at the address. The house was in Mhagenu, the richest district in Lhasa. She'd never been there before.

"I'll be there!" Nharu piped up. "Arei, that's ok, isn't it? L'oru will be scared if she's all alone with a man!"

"Fine, fine," muttered Hathori, picking up Nharu's discarded clothing.

The next day off was only a week away. Lhoru approached the high walls surrounding the estate. From Lhoru's perspective, the walls appeared imperious and forbidding, the embossed sign saying "Shoma" adding an air of exclusivity.

"It's so big," thought Lhoru, shivering slightly from the first morning frost of the year. "What if I get lost? They're such an important family…what if I offend them? Will I meet Asheno? The head of the family that Huki's so scared of…" To an insider like Haku, Lhoru's anxious thoughts provided him with a glimpse of how outsiders thought of the family. Hotohori adjusted easily to the rhythm of the Shoma household, having come from an affluent home herself. For Lhurone and Khosure, however, it was a different matter. The richness of the furnishings, the automatic deference of the servants, the lavish meals, and the peaceful orderliness provided a shocking counterpoint to the unforgiving and violent worlds they were used to. While listening to Haku's tale of the family, Lhurone said, "Well, I can't complain about living here now," with a wry smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Haku watched Khosure wistfully finger the fine silk fabric of his nightshirt. He could just see the bitterness-laced thought flitting through Khosure's mind: I could have lived here? The memory of Khosure's "home" clenched Haku's chest.

"L'oru!" Nharu's ecstatic scream caught Lhoru off-guard as she stalled in front of the gate's handsome but strong double doors. She turned her eyes upward, to see Nharu perched on top of the wall adjoining the gates.

"Oh, no, he'll fall off!" Lhoru thought.

"I cayme 'ere to meit yoo!" said the boy, "Theis eis a big compoond and I thought yoo might geit lost." He nimble leapt out of the sight behind the wall, and just before Lhoru started calling for help, he swung open the double doors.

"Weilcome to the Shoma eistayte!" declared Nharu, sweeping Lhoru inside. Nharu began walking, prattling in the manner of a tour guide while Lhoru followed behind dumbly. Indeed, the beautiful gardens stole her breath (and this wasn't even the main garden!), but it was the grand yet simple façade of the house and the labyrinthine connections of footpaths and smaller buildings that overwhelmed her. For a moment she forgot to worry about Hathori's intentions.

"Mowst of the Shoma don't know about the Dzuni curse," Nharu was saying. "The people heire on this compoond know about the curse, except for the servants. Usually the Dzuni live in these smaller houses. She'ure's an exception. He lives mhane, away. Everybody who lives within these walls live rho, inside the family. Tsein, here's Arei's house!" Nharu led Lhoru up some stone steps and through a door adorned with an ornately carved dragon, fire and smoke curling around it as it flew. The dragon looked out at the house's intruders with a sharp, intelligent expression. But Lhoru had reverted back to her nervous state upon hearing the announcement that it was Hathori's house, and failed to see the dragon.

"Arei is also the family doctor, you know," Nharu chattered as he peeled off Lhoru's damp coat, "he only looks after the Dzuni and their family. Even so, 'e's still very busy! 'E also uses this 'ouse as 'is office." He guided Lhoru to a simple yet spacious parlor, with comfortably cushioned chairs.

"I'll get Arei and bring some cocoa, too, just wait 'ere," Nharu grinned as he zipped back into the dark hallway.

"Cold ice flows through your veins, not warm blood."

Asheno's absent, ghostly voice marked shifted the vision from the parlor room to a vague pink nothingness. For the briefest moment, Haku found himself seated on the floor, wearing a black uniform, with a little gray-haired boy sobbing in his lap. Huki.

"Why? Why did you erase my friends' memories? Now I don't have any," Huki choked out in between sobs. Then the scene faded away.

"Yes…ice suits you well…the man of ice and snow…" As Asheno spoke, half of the fog gradually formed itself into a small, framed picture of a smiling, bright-eyed woman with short dark brown hair. She wore a light blue dress and held a bouquet of summer flowers. The other half shifted into a murky chiaroscuro of light and dark. A tragic longing filled Haku, who tried to fight it off.

"I must be in Hathori's memories now," Haku reasoned, "maybe this was someone he loved?"

"Arei!" The voice snapped Hathori awake. "L'oru's 'ere! Now don't be mean to 'er."

"Thank you, Nharu," Hathori replied, squelching his bubbling emotional overflow. It wouldn't do to sit and mope. After straightening his tie, Hathori strode businesslike into the parlor.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Shoma!" Lhoru shot out her seat, jackknifing into a too-deep bow. "I hope you are well!"

"Please, sit and relax." The girl looked terrified. Tired, too—there were dark circles under her eyes. Did she get enough sleep and food?

"I'm fine standing up! Really! I hope I didn't interrupt you—"

"No, no, you aren't bothering me at all. Please sit. I insist." Lhoru obeyed, sitting bolt upright.

Might as well get this over with, sighed the doctor to himself.

"Lhoru," Hathori said, "I asked you over because I want to discuss the family curse with you. It is not a light thing—it is sinister, full of complications. It hurts anybody who becomes involved." The girl's eyes widened. Hathori's voice dropped. "Move out of Shehure's house while you still can. Forget the Shomas."

"I 'ave the coco—aggh!" Nharu yelled as he fumbled the tray containing steaming cups of cocoa. The hot liquid splashed over the rug and floor.

"Be careful, Nharu!" Lhoru jumped to her feet, only to snarl her foot on the edge of the rug and fall. Hathori instinctively held his arms out to break her fall and remembered the curse too late, as she landed square on his chest.

When the dust settled, a light brown seahorse lay still on the heap of clothes before Lhoru's eyes. She stared for a minute, then started screaming.

"Water! He needs water! Salt? Tap? Hot? Cold? Water!"

His head throbbed from where he'd hit his shoe upon landing after his transformation. Hathori the seahorse heard Lhoru call for water, Nharu trying to reassure her.

"Just like Hana," he smiled as he passed out. Haku's vision went black.

What followed were a series of transitory images, from Hathori's point of view. This time the chiaroscuro half had disappeared. It must be Hathori's past I'm seeing now, thought Haku. He must be mostly blind in his right eye.

"Reported a rash over her shoulders…" Huh? Oh, medical reports. Sheafs of them covered the small table in front of Haku. He was still in Hathori's body. A clean, disinfected smell filled the room. A handsome cabinet contained neat rows of bottles, boxes of gauze, and other medical supplies. An escritoire, its surface littered with paper, perched under a large bay window overlooking the main garden. It was snowing gently outside.

"Good morning, Doctor. I am your new assistant, Shoma Hana." Hathori turned around, and there was the woman from the framed photo. This time she wore a tan skirt and a shirt patterned with dainty flowers, but the smile was the same.

"It's so funny," continued Hana, "we're in the same family, yet we've never met before."

"I have a lot of work for you to do," Hathori said, turning to the large pile of folders before him. "Organize these files, please. The cabinets for storage are over there."

Couldn't he be a little friendlier? He didn't even say hello, thought Haku. Then, reminiscing, he recalled the first time he'd met Hotohori. They'd been assigned to work together on a project in their biology class, and she had treated him in a similar brusque way. The exact same piercing, serious expression on her face. What had he said to strike that inner chord, that set them on the road to friendship?

Hana had been looking out the window during Hathori's instructions. "Oh, it's snowing!" she exclaimed. "Doctor, I have a riddle for you. What does snow turn into at the end of winter?"

What? Hathori really didn't have time for silly flights of childishness. "Well, snow turns into water, of course." Was she pulling a joke on him?

"No!" laughed Hana gaily. "It becomes spring. My favorite season. All the flowers start blooming."

Yes, that was it. Haku had said he couldn't wait for spring to arrive again. Probably because the hated song had been repeating itself in his mind endlessly. And Hotohori had replied, "Yes, I hate winter, too. I hate the snow." For a very short moment, her loneliness and sadness had bared itself to Haku, and her eyes had shimmered.

"The wonderful thing about spring is that it always arrives, no matter what," Hana said, giving Hathori a shining smile. The first shallow cracks in the man's icy veneer emerged under the sunny onslaught of a bright personality.

After that, Hathori and Hana quickly developed a relationship. Haku could feel Hathori's joy, a kind of emancipation from the dark power of the curse. The doctor didn't bury himself in work as much, and smiled much more often.

Then came the day she found out about the curse. It was inevitable that she'd hug him, when he wasn't on guard.

"Aaahhhh! Water! What kind? Salt? Tap?" She frantically whipped her head around, terrified the flopping little seahorse would suffocate and perish. A loud pop, and Hathori transformed back into a human.

"Gods, she's seen my Dzuni now," he groaned to himself. "She must think I'm a freak."

"Hathori?" Hana stroked his hair. "Are you all right? Can I get you anything?"

"I…I'll understand if you don't want to stay with me—" Hathori said, buttoning his shirt.

"No, Hathori, of course I want to stay with you. I love you. Now I understand why you wouldn't hug me. But I'm happy I met you, and I want to stay with you." Hana caressed his face. "But how did you turn into a seahorse?"

Hana became an initiate into the Shoma secret, and only became closer to Hathori. But after Hana accepted Hathori's marriage proposal, the vision skidded ahead.

"No! NO! Never!" roared a man. Everything was tinged red; only with great difficulty could Haku make out shapes. He discerned the form of a thrashing Asheno, and an overturned dinner tray. "I'll never let that bitch near the Dzuni!" Hathori screamed, and a hellish pain filled Haku's head. Something warm spurted down his face…

"Hana! Help Hathori!" Was that Shehure holding back Asheno's hand? Was that a fork Asheno was holding?

Blackness. Then Hana materialized in front of Haku. But she wasn't the same. Her cheekbones jutted with a stark clarity, puffy purple patches ringed her eyes. So emaciated…

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Hathori," she broke down crying, "I couldn't protect you, it was my fault. Asheno's right, it was my fault. I'm the one who made you blind in that eye."

Then Asheno's insidious voice: "It really would be better if you erased her memory, wouldn't it?" The bony hand crept up Hathori's tie, pulling him closer to the devious voice. "Look at the poor girl, just wasting away. She probably wishes she'd never met you. You could do it. After all, you've erased countless other memories with no problem at all. Do it, Hathori." Threatening, yet still restrained.

Back to Hana, kneeling before Hathori. She continued to sob.

"I'm so sorry…" managed to escape through the sobbing. Hathori looked at her for a long time. This was the last time that Hana would know him as her lover, the man she would have married in a short while. He lifted her hand to her forehead. He couldn't get upset now. He had to concentrate, erase all her memories of him, of all the times they'd watched the snow fall, the times they'd laughed over a ridiculous joke. Erase all her memories of him. Memories precious to him. And he had erased other people's memories so easily, at the behest of his father and Asheno. Without thinking about how others might feel. Little Huki's pleas snuck obtrusively into his thoughts.

"No, Hana, I was the one who couldn't protect you," murmured Hathori softly. "Goodbye. I hope you will find someone who makes you happy. I…couldn't…make you happy." A solitary tear trickled from his injured eye in defiance of Hathori's efforts to control his crumbling exterior. Light filled the room and blotted out everything.

The pillow felt so wet. Haku opened his eyes and discovered tears still flowing from his eyes.

"That was awful," he managed to say, wiping his face on a sheet. "Awful" wasn't even really appropriate for the way Asheno had torn apart and then ground Hathori's heart into pieces.

**"Still want forget?"** asked the wolf.

Haku sat silent, collecting his confused emotions. The sad strains of a violin tinkling through the room didn't help very much.

Oh, Hatsuharu's playing his violin, realized Haku. That means he must be in his room. Soon after the harithe when they were still so little, Hatsuharu had discovered a violin in one of the storage rooms and taken it upon himself to learn how to play. Asheno, still recovering from the injuries inflicted by Hatsuharu, had left him alone. He'd become quite a good violinist, too. It'd been a while since Haku had heard the violin.

Haku stumbled to Hatsuharu's room next door, and knocked.

"Come in," replied Hatsuharu, without missing a note. He took in Haku's rumpled clothes and red-rimmed eyes. Gently, he set the violin down, lifted his feet from his desk and sat upright.

"What the hell happened to you? Asheno didn't do anything, did he?"

"No, Asheno wasn't involved, not directly, anyway," Haku smiled weakly, dropping onto Hatsuharu's beanbag. Its squeak sounded comfortingly familiar. "I just had an upsetting vision, that's all."

"What was it about?"

"Heartbreak."

"Whose?

"That's all I can say." Haku looked Hatsuharu in the eyes. "Hatsuharu, I really came in here to apologize for earlier."

"It's okay, I should apologize to you, too." Hatsuharu sighed.

"No, really, you were right to get frustrated with me. You're worried about me, and I appreciate that. I really do. But…my relationship with Faran-Zhuku is just really complicated, then the visions and voices the ghost makes me see and hear…it's more than I can ever hope to explain to anybody right now. Please, be patient with me a little while longer. I'm sorry, but I need time to sort this all out."

"Whenever you need to talk, I'm here." Hatsuharu smiled and nodded. "No, Haku, don't lean so far back on that thing. You'll break your head against the wall."


	16. Chapter 18

More fireworks between Asheno and the new Dzunis.

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, Natsuki Takaya does; anything else you recognize is also not mine. Tragically.

**Chapter 18**

_Lhurone_

I remained in bed for a week and a half, doctor's orders. Khosure, the boy with the weird silver hair, had to stay in bed even longer because the pneumonia made him so tired. He was okay; when he was awake enough, he could chatter like no one's chirping birds on a spring day. Still didn't know him very well, though. The girl, Hotohori, at first seemed to be a cold piece of fluffy white clouds…hmm, haven't gotten out of the habit of trying to cuss every other sentence. It makes me sound bizarre. My slips are kind of funny, though; I guess I'm getting used to them.

"I see now why you were kicked out of the gang," Haku had said after I'd accidentally described my pain as a nice warm bubble bath (which it isn't, let me tell you). Anyway, about Tori, as they call her, which I'm not really comfortable doing yet, she's turned out to be a pretty good person. She's talked to me some, although she's worried about Khosure. Now, I have no experience with things like this, but I'm sure Khosure sees her as more than a friend. The times I was with girls in Shiwa, well, they were casual acquaintances, shall we say. I'm no stranger to "lovemaking." That's the only "s"-related word I can use without being forced to use some queer substitution. A couple nights a week, we'd just get together with girls in the town, after a good altercation against another gang. I can't even say "fig-", "fi-"…oh, never mind. I can't believe how different I sound, it's like I came out of a cocoon a completely different person after fifteen years. And now I'm in the home of the richest family in all Hoth as well.

Mind you, I'm beginning to like this new life a lot better. Even if the guardian does give me the willies. It's still nicer to have a full belly every day, and be warm, and be around friendly people. For sure Haku, Hatsuharu, and Hotohori have never had deal with what Khosure and I did. Khosure won't talk much, but I know. I know a slum person when I see one. He's had a lighthearted…oh, again with the cussing…I meant, he's had a hard life. Although my gut, and my gut is still excellent, tells me that the other three haven't had it easy, either. Just in a different way. That ghost wolf couldn't be the only reason Haku seems so scary. Granted, I'd be petting a lamb…having a monster wolf hanging over you would mess you up. But there's the way Haku and Hatsuharu talk about Asheno, and my short meeting with Asheno proves what they're saying. The man is evil. I feel sure of it.

The head housekeeper, Rhena, is the opposite of evil, happily. She's taken care of me and Khosure the entire time. We've had lots of lively conversation. Rhena's told me many stories of when we were babies, and the hijinks Haku and Hatsuharu pulled as kids. Though they'd probably crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment, if they knew Rhena were telling me these stories.

One day she came in carrying a pad of paper and a white plastic bag.

"Lhurone, dear," she said, putting the bag and paper on the nightstand next to me, "Now that you're here and not part of a gang anymore, thank the Heavens, I thought it was high time you found some hobbies. I love talking with you, but I have my duties and you should find something else to do besides talking with old ladies all day long, and that television will rot your brain more than that gang did. Haku let me borrow some of his drawing paper and pencils. Why not try drawing for a start? You can do it in bed." She poured out the colored pencils. "Maybe Khosure might try, too, after he wakes up. Oh, and Asheno is sick today. No trouble from him today! I'll call the doctor later about your sleeping problem." I'd been having progressively more trouble falling asleep while lying down. It was becoming necessary for me to sit up in order to fall asleep. "Your rib isn't bothering you, is it? Good. Now I must be off." One final beam and tuck of the sheets, and Rhena was off, as she said.

"Did Swish-swish just leave?" Bedsheets rustled, and Khosure emerged yawning, his long hair covering his face. Khosure had recently begun referring to Rhena as "Swish-swish" because of the sound her skirts made whenever she rushed off to some task. An apt nickname, in my opinion.

"Yeah, she gave me these pencils and paper to try drawing." The blank white sheets shone in my lap. The pink pencil in my hand felt light and strange. "But I've never drawn before. How do I start?"

"Oh, drawing! Fantastic!" enthused Khosure, immediately waking up and energetically shuffling to my bed. He sat down heavily, making me bounce dangerously.

"Hot cocoa, be careful!" I yelled. "My rib's still recovering, you know."

"Sorry!" He'd already gotten used to my creative cussing. "Could I have some paper?" He grabbed some without waiting for my answer. I didn't really mind, though, he's a good soul.

"Just draw something that interests you," Khosure said, "The land, people, houses, whatever. I'm going to sketch clothing designs I want to make once I get enough money to buy the fabric. Here, let me show you. Haku's a really great artist, you should ask him if you can see some of his work later." Under the guidance of Khosure's practiced fingers, peach and purple lines merged to form a flowing image of a woman in a fancy hekana.

"See?" Khosure shoved the paper at me. "Just draw what you want. It doesn't have to have lots of detail or be absolutely perfect."

"That is a nice hekana," I finally commented, "but I would prefer wearing something like this." Next to Khosure's figure, I drew a rough image of a man in sleek black leather pants, a dark green turtleneck, and a wide, linked silver belt.

"Gangster," cheerfully teased Khosure.

"Pants and shirts are easier to move around in than old-fashioned Hothan clothing," I said.

"But lots of martial artists still use robes, and Haku wears hekashos because pants and shirts bother him."

"Hekashos are so bulky, though."

"Here, I'll show you an hekasho that wouldn't trip up people," Khosure began scribbling away again.

And so Rhena returned two hours later to find us still engaged in a good-natured drawing battle over hekashos vs. pants and discussing clothing theory, with paper smothering my bed and overflowing onto the floor.

_Hotohori_

Occasionally, I still burp a puff of smoke or two. I've had no other problems with my "dragon self" since my transformation five days ago. Small wonder my attacks were so bad, if I had that much fire pent up inside me. Somehow I doubt I'll suffer them again.

Since the transformation, I've divided my days between settling in to my new room, keeping Khosure company, going back to school, and experimenting with my fire abilities (outdoors, of course, in an ovcrgrown, secluded part of the garden nobody ever walks in). I have a responsibility to learn to control such dangerous powers. The first time I went out to experiment two days ago, I was able to blow a short plume from my mouth easily. Yesterday, I lit the tip of my finger, like putting a match to a candle. My skin did not burn, nor did the flame leave any marks whatsoever.

Today, I planned to see whether I could release fire from someplace other than my mouth. If I had a fireball in my hand, would I be able to toss it somewhere else? For purposes of preventing a wildfire, I'd brought along two buckets of water. Hopefully that would be enough. As I walked to the garden's overgrown section, weighty thoughts wafted through my mind. I turn into a fire-breathing dragon because of fallout from an old family curse. That alone gives one plenty to mull over. Haku and Hatsuharu had explained a little about the curse, but unsatisfactorily little. All that Khosure, Lhurone and I knew at this point was that there used to be a curse, and now it was manifesting in us in a different from; and that Asheno was a raging madman. Too much was left out; for example, Haku didn't outline the old curse's workings fully. How did the curse begin in the first place? How we were related to Asheno, besides his supposedly being our "god"? Our abilities were nothing like the regular Dzuni, the common one adhered to by most of Hoth, would implicate. The common Dzuni only dictated the kinds of personalities people were supposed to be born with. No fire-breathing or ghost wolves played a role.

The grotesquely oversized flame tree came into view. That was the only thing that bothered me about the overgrown section; the tree. Short trees are better adapted to the vicious environment of the Hothan mountain areas. This one tree was just unnaturally huge. I purposely kept a distance away from it. Today, maybe it was because I'd been thinking about the Dzuni, a supernatural feeling hung about the tree. It might've always been there, I'm not yet well acquainted with the sprawling Shoma estate. Several of its branches look like old, arthritic hands, reaching towards me, compelling me to gaze upon the tree. Strangely, rather than inspiring fear, the flame tree stirred nostalgic emotions within me. The empty branches mutely sang of glory, pride, and strength. Days when we were not dogged by neglect, fright or rejection. Just like we had been. And the Shomas who suffered under the old curse.

Perhaps we were the real Dzuni. Maybe over time the Dzuni had somehow become diluted in Hothan mythology, and the old family curse reflected that watered-down version. Our literature teacher had done a program on Hothan mythology, how our current mythology did not consolidate until well after the Dark Ages' termination. Even then, several versions of the same stories exist with regional variations. After exams, I should research the Dzuni. Maybe one of the forgotten versions will hold the key to the Shoma secrets. And while I'm at it, Haku may decide to start talking more. He knows more about the curse from that ghost of his, I'm sure.

"Tori! Where are you?"

"Damn!" I muttered as I spilled water in surprise at Rhena's voice. "I'm coming, Rhena!"

"My word, what are you doing with those buckets?" Rhena looked surprised as I walked towards her. She was standing near the center of the garden. "Never mind that, child, I came to fetch you because you've been summoned for an audience with Asheno in a few minutes."

Rhena caught my grimace. "Indeed," she nodded in agreement. "Just behave and end it as quickly as possible. You should put on a nice hekana—I have one that'll fit perfectly and go with that lovely hair of yours—this'll will be your formal introduction to Asheno."

"Will I have to see Asheno a lot?" He really gave me a sour taste.

"No, he's of a sickly constitution," Rhena said as we stepped into the main house and she steered me upstairs. "By the way, he's seeing Khosure now."

"But Kho is still weak!"

"Asheno insisted."

_Khosure_

The floor shimmied as I bowed my best deep bow to the creepy shadow on the chair who was now my guardian. It was so dark in here, did he have sensitive eyes? The darkness reminded me of sleeping, I was so tired. Playing with Lhurone earlier had been fun, but I needed my beauty rest now. And the air! So hard to breathe…when was the last time there'd been a whiff of fresh air in here?

"Good afternoon, guardian," I said as I slowly rose out of the bow.

"Khosure. You look just as silly as the last one." The disapproving tone in his voice bit at my ears. "Hmph. Just like your so-called friends, a failure. You don't even sound like a proper snake. What shall I do with you, hmm?"

How could I respond to that? Haku said something about an old curse—but I wasn't really listening, I was so tired and scared. For a long time Asheno said nothing.

I almost wished I were back in the shack in Ghunene, at least I'd known what to expect from Cook.

"Answer me, you worthless creature."

My quivering knees gave way, and sat on the floor, supported by my arms. Just like Cook. I shouldn't be alive. Soft vibrations from the carpet tingled through my hands. A pair of thin, white feet appeared under my eyes.

"What is your last name, anyway?" One foot, crisscrossed with the brightest blue veins I'd seen, tapped impatiently.

My usually noble voice only managed a stuttering squeak. "A-Ahame." The foot stopped tapping. Asheno choked, then started chuckling.

"Ahame? Really? Oh, how funny, if only he knew!" The chuckling merged into full-blown laughter. "Ahame! Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

Cold fingers touched my chin and forced my face upwards. He leaned down until our noses almost touched. It became painfully clear to me that the man didn't brush his teeth as often as he should. His poisonous breath curled into my suffering nostrils as he slowly formed each word.

"Ahame…and you even look just like him. Dear me, you're still weak, aren't you? Of course, snakes don't like the cold and the rain. You poor dear. I shan't keep you in here one second longer. Off you go, then." He stroked my hair, and on the last stroke tugged my hair ever so slightly. "I hope to see you again soon, when you are better." He smiled, a nasty smile, the kind where the eyes stay hard and don't twinkle. Asheno let go of my head and turned away. I scuttled to the door as quickly as I could, drawing in deep breaths of lighter air when I got out.

_Hotohori_

The sight of Kho panting, crawling on all fours, alarmed both me and Rhena.

"That man!" Rhena cursed under her breath, as we kneeled down to help Kho up. "Making Khosure see him in this condition…Oh, you're sweating Khosure, I'll have you tucked in a jiffy." Rhena focused on me. "Remember what I said," she whispered, shifting Kho's full weight onto her shoulder, "keep it as short as you can."

I watched as the two disappeared through the central hallway. My dark green hekana felt so heavy, bearing down on my shoulders. This was one of the older styles, before they started making the airy ones that didn't drag so much. My bare feet were cold, and goosebumps tingled on my arms and legs. The dark red wooden door stood as an ominous gateway into darkness. Taking a deep breath, I resolutely opened the door.

Keep it as short as you can.

Eyes downcast, I advanced humbly with small steps. Even the curtains had been pulled across the windows, and there were no lights. Amazingly, Kho had not passed out from breathing this long-buried air. My feet made no sound as they drowned in the carpeting.

When I judged that I'd advanced far enough, I glanced up. Nobody seemed to be here. Better safe than sorry, I bowed deeply and said, "Good afternoon, guardian, I, Zhuruth Hotohori, come to pay my respects to you." Straightening up, I waited as the interminable silence showed no signs of ending. Now a presence lurked somewhere in the unfriendly shadows.

"I always like seeing my Dzuni looking so beautiful," spoke a man's voice as a hand reached around and fondled my breast.

"What!" I yelled as I wheeled around, facing Asheno.

"Now, that wasn't nice. Is that any way to greet your benevolent guardian?" Asheno's lips had assumed a scolding position.

"You sexually harassed me!" Without thinking, I raised my hand. A core of burning heat formed within my palm, and I hurled the fireball at Asheno. It landed on his messy hekasho's sleeve, and illuminated the dank room with one magnificent burst.


	17. Chapter 19

ArmoredSoul: Thanks for the review! Yep, Faran-Zhuku is messed up, and so are most of the Shomas at that. Dysfunctional families are one of my imagination's specialties.

It's Kagura's turn this chapter! And just as much property gets destroyed by her as in the manga!

Speaking of mangas, Natsuki Takaya owns FB, not me. I also don't own anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 19**

He had to admit he was proud of Hotohori, and even a little jealous that she had hurt Asheno. Their guardian's screaming had thrown the household into a ruckus, and Rhena had run into the room to discover a furious Hotohori standing before an Asheno frantically trying to work his arm out of a blazing sleeve. Asheno had only suffered second-degree burns at the worst on his arm, but still, the thought of Hotohori fighting back comforted Hatsuharu greatly.

Lhurone and Khosure worried him more though. Of course, it was entirely possible that Khosure might just fry Asheno one day. But he might be too scared. The look in Khosure's eyes when Hatsuharu had seen him late yesterday afternoon…it didn't bode well. And Lhurone was now incapable of violence. Hopefully he could at least still dodge blows. What if Asheno went after him while Lhurone was still bedridden? No, Asheno himself was bedridden from the burn…

"Open already, would you!" Hatsuharu narrowed his eyes, fiddling with his locker's ornery combination. At this rate, he'd be late for morning homeroom. Hatsuharu, in his preoccupation, failed to notice the tall student standing nearby, carrying a bulging rucksack over one shoulder. He was only a few inches shorter than Hatsuharu, and shifted nervously from one foot to another. His short dark brown hair was neatly cut, with matching brown eyes. Despite the obvious strength evident in his strong muscles, the sight of the annoyed Hatsuharu made the teenager timid.

"Excuse me?" The boy said, or rather whispered, as he took a few tiny steps towards Hatsuharu.

"Open, damn you!" Hatsuharu hadn't heard. The student clutched his books tighter.

"Excuse me." More loudly this time.

"What? Oh, hello," Hatsuharu straightened up, surveying the familiar teenager. He was in the same gym class as Hatsuharu, wasn't he? Yes, he was the quiet one who never spoke, but was a very strong athlete.

"I don't believe we've introduced ourselves," Hatsuharu said encouragingly. He'd always liked the kid, something about the aura he gave off. "I'm Shoma Hatsuharu."

"Ashu Khezuke." The boy nodded, a shy smile momentarily breezing across his face. Then he looked down, fidgeting. "Umm…I don't know if you know about this…" he began, then inhaled and looked at Hatsuharu again. "But my parents received a letter from the Shoma estate…" He stopped, face reddening.

Another one! No wonder he'd felt an affinity towards Khezuke.

"They keep coming one after another, don't they?" Hatsuharu thought to himself.

"You're one of us, right?" whispered Hatsuharu.

"Something called the Dzuni," affirmed Khezuke.

"All right. Well, you can come over any day when you're ready. .Just call us and we can send someone to pick up your things in the next few days. I'll tell you about the family and introduce you to the other Dzuni."

"Uh…can I move in today, after school?" Khezuke's face turned a deeper red.

"Today?" Hatsuharu, taken aback, saw the blush deepen. Something was wrong.

"You see…" faltered Khezuke, "…they kicked me out, after the letter arrived."

"No! Get him away from me!"

"On the day of the test, the only things you are allowed to bring are a calculater…"

How hard it was to concentrate on the teacher's instructions when he could listen to an infinitely more interesting voice or watch more Shoma drama unfold. Haku gave in to the voices this time. No need to listen to stuff he'd heard countless times before. Usuallly, when he saw visions or voices at school, the voices tended to dominate. It wasn't the first time. The only difference was that the voices lasted longer now, just as the visions had become more complete since Haku discovered Faran-Zhuku. Before, all he heard were snatches of someone agonizing over the woman he loved, a messy breakup, and schoolgirls laughing at a silent girl, for example. Now a woman, apparently having a nervous breakdown, was screaming at her husband.

"No! Keep that monster away from me!"

"But Saleina," beseeched a man's voice, "Nharu's our son! It's not his fault he turns into a rabbit!" Saleina, a Gogothan name. The origin of Nharu's accent suddenly became clear.

"He's not my son, Zarehu!" Smashing glass accompanied the hysterical screaming.

"Pay attention to your proctors' instructions, very carefully…" droned the teacher.

"Zarehu, It seems to me the only hope for Saleina is to erase her memory." Hathori's voice overtook the teacher's voice. "If she doesn't forget about Nharu, she will only get worse. But you need to consider this very carefully…after all, this means Nharu will lose his mother…"

"Yes, I'll do anything!" the man, Zarehu, responded emphatically. "Anything for Saleina."

Hathori's consulting room materialized before Haku. The doctor (his hair was still short, so that meant this event was pre-Hana) sat across from a thin, bedraggled woman. Her blue eyes, unnaturally large in their sockets, gazed unblinkingly and stonily at Hathori. Her hands worried the hem of her sweater.

"Saleina," Hathori carefully began, watching her carefully. "Are you absolutely sure you want to forget?"

No response, except for a quick blink. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. "I want to forget that creature ever came out of my body."

The nine-year-old Nharu had seen the whole thing, peeking around the doorway, right through the flash of light obliterating his mother's memories of him. His round chin quivered slightly.

_Shomathu dzirosura emiros Will the flowers return_

_Thiri shune ze mahos ghobirime? To spite endless winter,_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru Or be swallowed by ice?_

_The flame trees of Thika_

"Ay," breathed Haku as he left class.

"What's wrong?" asked Hotohori.

"These visions." Haku shook his head. They made their way to the cafeteria, already noisy from milling throngs of students waiting for friends and the clattering of dishes and utensils. Khosure was still to weak to attend school, and Lhurone's educational status was highly uncertain. Likely he would need intensive private tutoring over the summer if there was any hope of attending high school for him

"I wish that song would go to hell," Haku muttered.

"What's that?" Tori said, settling down at one of the tables. "Oh, Hatsuharu! Over here!"

They didn't notice the unknown boy following Hatsuharu until they came to the table.

"Hi Haku, Tori," Hatsuharu dumped his schoolbag on the floor. "I want you to meet Ashu Khezuke. He's in our grade, and he's joining the Shoma as of today."

"Hello." Khezuke bent his torso quickly.

"Khezuke, this is Shoma Haku and Zhuruth Hotohori."

"Pleased to meet you, Khezuke. Sit down," invited Hotohori. The big teenager awkwardly maneuvered into one of the plastic chairs.

The shyness, the looks…Haku was sure he'd seen someone like Khezuke in one of the visions before. Ah, yes! The pig! Or to be more accurate, the boar. One of the few times he'd not had an incredibly depressing vision.

The vision had started with Shehure, Huki and Lhadoman sitting around the table for dinner, with Lhoru setting out the food. The cat and rat were bickering as usual, stopping only to snap at Shehure for saying something perverted to Lhoru. Everyone turned silent as the mildest tap came from the front door.

"Who could that be? Perhaps you boys finally started inviting some cute high school girls—" A punch from Lhadoman silenced Shehure. "That was mean, Lhado!" whined the older man.

"I'll see who it is!" called Lhoru, trotting to the door.

"Who is it?" she inquired brightly, only to be greeted by silence. "Is anyone there?" As Lhoru began to turn back, a shuffling occurred.

A quiet girl's voice spoke. "I-is it true that Shoma Lhadoman's here?"

"Yes!" Lhoru said. "He's eating dinner right now. If I may ask—"

"Lhado!" A blue blur rushed by Lhoru. She followed the blur, and in the dining room, saw a brown-haired girl in a blue dress glaring at Lhadoman, who had to be restrained from running away by Shehure. Huki kept eating as if nothing was happening.

Lhoru saw an orange cat backpack on the girl's shoulders.

"Long time no see, Khagura," greeted Shehure, a steadfast grip on the panicking Lhadoman.

Khagura gazed at Lhadoman, tears in her eyes. "Lhado," she whimpered, "we're engaged to be married, then you leave for four months without so much as a call for me? Don't you know I…LOVE YOU!"

"Eep!' yelped Lhoru as the expression in Khagura's eyes morphed from sad to raging, and Khagura leapt across the table and locked Lhadoman's neck and head in her arms in one smooth motion.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED!" she bellowed as she threw Lhadoman against the wall, breaking a framed picture of Thika Mountain. Khagura's trained arms punched Lhadoman mercilessly, until Lhoru was sure he'd be killed.

"Khagura—" spoke Lhoru.

"It'll be all right, Lhoru," Shehure said, sipping his cocoa. "Lhado always survives."

"Unfortunately," added Huki.

"Shoma Khagura's just a few years older than these boys," Shehure explained further, "she's a freshman in college. As you can see, she's quite devoted to our dear cat. She's a member of the Dzuni, too."

"I WAS WORRIED!" One fist froze in midair. Lhado's nose bled profusely and a nice shiner was already forming. Khagura's face relaxed, and she gasped in horror, pulling Lhado's face into her bosom.

"Oh! Who would do something this horrible to you, my beloved?" Khagura crooned, as she let Lhado drop to the floor groaning while she frantically searched the kitchen for first aid.

"Khagura just gets overexcited around her fiancée," Shehure said, sighing at the broken picture. "It's part of her Dzuni, the quick temper. I should charge her for this picture. Yes…"

More crashing from the kitchen. Lhoru sat at the dinner table, trying to take in everything she'd just seen.

"Uhhhng," moaned Lhado, dragging himself up onto a chair, cradling his head with one hand.

"My love!" Khagura rushed at him, armed with several wet towels. She began mopping his face. "I'm so sorry!"

"Ow, have a care, will you? You practically broke my nose!" Lhadoman knocked aside the fatal towel-wielding hand. "And who said I'm going to marry YOU?"

"You said you'd marry me, when we were younger!"

"Only because you threatened to kill me if I didn't marry you!"

"You jerk! You abuse me when I came here to see you after you were gone so long!"

"Oh, Khagura," Shehure interrupted, anxious to prevent more damage to his house, "this is Mileshi Lhoru. She's the girl who's been staying with us. She's also a big fan of the cat."

"A rival?" That had successfully diverted Khagura's attention. "No!" She went over to Lhoru. "What do you like about Lhado? I love EVERYTHING about him! Even if he cheats on me, I'll forgive him! Even if he turns into his true form, I'll still—"

"Talk any more, and you're dead!" threatened Lhado, covering Khagura's mouth.

"What do you mean, I'm dead?" Khagura wheeled around and yelled. "Just for that, I'm not staying here any longer!" She ran to the door, cat backpack bobbing in time.

"Delivery for Shoma Shehure!" called a man's voice from the front steps.

"Oh, no, a man!" thought Lhoru as the other members of the Dzuni stared towards the door in alarm. Huki sprinted to the door just as the loud "pop!" happened. Everyone else followed. The delivery man had been shoved off the front porch by one of Huki's brilliant martial arts blocks, and was already on his way off the estate. Khagura was nowhere to be seen.

"Oink."

The sad-looking little pig stood on the sidewalk. It was brown, with darker spots along its backside.

"Oh, you're the pig!" Lhoru squealed, lifting a surprised Khagura and hugging her. "You're so cute!"

And so naturally Lhoru had managed to win over Khagura, despite being competition for Lhadoman's heart. Everybody always loved Lhoru. It made Haku want to smack her sometimes, she was so perfectly kind and sweet. At the same time, deep down, he knew he would've preferred living with her to Asheno any day.

_Khezuke_

I didn't speak much, after Hatsuharu introduced me to the others. It's never been easy for me to talk to new people until I've gotten to know them. Heck, even my own parents I didn't talk to much. But they're not really my parents—no real parents would kick their own child out into the street!

Trying to suppress my anger, Haku led me to the waiting family car. Just from the mini-television, car telephone, and plush seats, I could tell my new surroundings would be much fancier than what I was accustomed to. My old house had been comfortable, but nothing compared to this car. Of course, anything would seem luxurious after living in the streets for a day after those evil trolls…

"Khezuke?" Hatsuharu was looking at me, and I realized that my expression mirrored my thoughts too clearly. I'd gotten into trouble being unable to control my hot temper in the past.

"I must make a good impression," I said to myself. "I'm fine, Hatsuharu."

He merely nodded. Probably knew I was lying. "Anyway, Khezuke, we'll get a nice room fixed up for you," Hatsuharu said. "Rhena, she's the head housekeeper and a good friend of the Dzuni, will help you with anything you need. One word of warning, though." The car pulled into an enormous driveway, blocked by a large wall and double gates. The gates opened, and the car continued down a lane flanked by flame trees on either side. The sight of the black, empty trees leading the way to such a mammoth estate made my spine tingle—like being led to a haunted house. "Our guardian, Asheno, is mentally unstable." Where a crazy guardian lived. Perfect. "We don't mean to scare you on your first day here, but Asheno, well…"

"He's tried to attack us before," the girl spoke up, what was her name? "The something dragon." "Be ready to defend yourself."

"What is Asheno like?" I visualized a big strong man, a weightlifter like my former father had been. Argh, again with them…forget them, Khezuke. They matter no more.

The main doorway to the house of Shoma loomed in front of me. Gripping my rucksack tighter, I followed Haku through the door.

"Shit," I heard Haku mutter as he stopped in his tracks, my body colliding with his.

"What?" Instinctively alert, I looked ahead.

"Another one has arrived, hmm? Welcome." A diminutive, waiflike man dressed in a light gray hekasho stood in the entry hall. He was a full foot shorter then I, and he directed an unhealthy smile at me.

"And what might your name be?"

"This is him," Haku whispered over his shoulder. Turning to Asheno, he said, bowing, "He is Ashu Khezuke, and he has come to join us."

"I didn't ask you, Haku. I asked him. I assume he has the brains enough to recall his own name."

That little thing was Asheno? The one everybody feared?

The look of disbelief on my face vanished as knife-like pains began crisscrossing my face, arms, legs, back and torso. The sack fell as I clutched my arms to my chest, in a futile attempt to contain the explosion. I doubled over onto the floor, sweating and gasping.

"Khezuke!" It sounded so far away, carrying over a distance of a thousand miles through the storm of relentless knifings. Someone screamed, a long, horrible, protracted scream, like a pig being stuck.


	18. Chapter 20

Another chapter, la dee da...Hatsumi, by the way, is not high.

Disclaimer: FB ain't mine, or anything else you recognize, for that matter.

**Chapter 20**

The "sickroom," as it had come to be known, now had a new occupant. Khezuke, bleeding severely from several gashes that mysteriously opened all over his body, had to be carried in by Haku and Hatsuharu. The doctor was now undertaking the time-consuming task of stitching up the numerous angry gashes.

Khezuke's horrendous scream rang in the witnesses' heads for a long time afterwards. Asheno had retreated to his rooms, leaving Rhena and the others to take care of everything.

The two veteran inhabitants of the sickroom, Khosure and Lhurone, held a hushed conference with Haku, Hatsuharu and Hotohori, as the five looked at the curtain that hid the doctor, Khezuke, and Rhena from view. A bloody trail still led from the doorway to behind the curtain.

"Hold that, please, Rhena," the doctor ordered. Mercifully, Khezuke had remained unconscious since the gashes appeared.

"What happened?" Khosure asked, fascinated. "Who was that?"

"Ashu Khezuke from our grade," Hatsuharu replied grimly. "He's a Dzuni, too. Got kicked out of his house by his parents when the letter from Asheno arrived." Obviously it rankled on the bull's mind. "We came into the house, and Asheno was standing in the entry hall. At first Khezuke just stared at Asheno in a funny way, then he collapsed, screamed, and these…cuts magically appeared on his body."

"Is that how his Dzuni spirit responds to Asheno? If so, he's got problems," Lhurone observed.

"I'm pretty sure he's the boar of the Dzuni," Haku murmured, "but I really don't see why he'd get cuts just from seeing Asheno."

"Assuming Asheno was the reason," corrected Hotohori.

"Those gashes looked like the kind you'd get from a really sharp whip," said Lhurone. No one asked him how he knew.

After two hours, the doctor finally emerged. "It'll take a long time for him to recover, but the stitches should start healing in a day or two. Just keep the bandages fresh and use this scar solution," he told Rhena. "Good day, everyone. I'll be back to check on him tomorrow." He bowed to the huddle as he departed.

Rhena turned wearily to them. "500 stitches," she said. "I'm not letting Asheno near this one anymore."

_Hatsumi_

It was time for a change of scene. Time to get away from Rhenigroth, from my old life. Find a new city, new streets to drift on. Cross the mountains, see the sea of Zi Alda and the venerable capital of Hoth. Lhasa, city of the harithe. Snow instead of rain. I'd saved enough train fare money from the piddling part-time jobs I'd managed to find the last two years, since I escaped from The Den of Sin. About time, too, my current boss was an S.O.B. I'd be working the cashier, or stocking the shelves, when the old drunk would yell, "Rhenuth, bring that bottle over, will you?" Right in the customer's hearing and all. The store being a liquor store only made it more ludicrous.

"Rhenuth" I picked up, being the first name I saw after I'd run away from The Den of Sin. It was on a sign for a brothel. A policeman had stopped me.

"Are you lost, little boy?" Rare enough that a policeman would be in that area of Rhenigroth, rarer still that one with a heart of gold would be there.

"Yes." I couldn't tell him about The Den. If the owners found out who snitched, I'd be dead.

"What's your name?"

"Hatsumi. Rhenuth Hatsumi." I'd sound more believable if I had a last name, too. "My parents left me here then drove off." Child abandonments were fairly commonplace among desperate people in western Hoth.

He plunked me down in one of the more decent local orphanages. I had a clean bed and regular meals. The downside was that the bed was more than a tad broken down, and the food consisted of unidentifiable mush. The managers found a job for me in a hotel kitchen, then as a guard. After I'd earned enough money, I moved into a communal apartment house. We didn't pay rent, but we had to perform maintenance on our apartments in return for staying there. It is fair to say I was the only one who paid his full due. I'd picked up a gig in the liquor store.

I have moved around a lot in Rhenigroth, and I have seen all there is to see in Rhenigroth. I respond not just to wanderlust, but also the need to escape the many eyes of The Den of Sin. Their constant threat has forced me to dye my light brown hair black, and to slouch to hide my height and muscles. So demeaning, to have to shrink and disguise my body.

To fair Lhasa, then, the hub that, for countless centuries, has welcomed refugees and those wishing to hide.

The last few hectic weeks of the school year passed by quickly. The high school placement exams were duly suffered, and survived, by the students. Khezuke and Khosure made theirs up later. Miraculously, all of them, except for Lhurone who didn't take the tests, performed decently despite the upheavals in their lives.

Graduation proceeded mechanically and soullessly; the five dzuni who participated had no relatives, aside from Rhena, to congratulate and hug them. Asheno had told them in a perfunctory exchange last night that they would all attend Karori, and no other school. Lhurone would be home-schooled intensively.

"Karori? Did you say Karori?" Haku had asked incredulously.

"You have excellent, unimpaired ears. Yes, I said Karori," sarcastically responded Asheno. Haku burst out laughing.

"What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, Asheno, but Karori of all places…" He continued howling, Asheno steadily glaring at him.

"What is so entertaining about Karori?" Asheno asked through narrowed eyes. "What do you know about it?"

Gathering he'd revealed too much, Haku kept his mouth tightly shut.

_Haku_

The memories of my last weeks in junior high school are virtually nonexistent. Faran-Zhuku went into overdrive, bombarding both my sleeping and waking moments with visions and voices, as if to make up for lost time. Lately, Rhena keeps asking me if I feel well, because, to quote her, I "look like a sleepwalker, I declare!" Really, I have only been living in a perpetual dream.

A dream of epic proportions, hundreds of monumental and inconsequential episodes in the lives of Lhoru and the Shomas—add some new characters, too—jumping over the fence of my mind, like sheep following one another. But some sheep were more aggressive than others.

While Hatsuharu, Tori, Kho, Lhurone, and Khezuke were resting and gathering their strength, heady events such as Lhoru's first meeting with Asheno, Lhadoman's forced transformation into his true form, and a new woman turning Hathori's life upside down (to name only a very few). New members of the old Dzuni whirled by me, leaving me barely enough time to process them. Yet I still managed to see everything Faran-Zhuku showed me: the fear, the sadness, the grains of joy, the personal preferences, and the pathos that resided within each and every one I encountered in the visions. Faran-Zhuku insists upon my experiencing these in excruciating detail; I have learned to honor his wishes and trust his wisdom, or more accurately, his centuries of accumulated memories. The untouched questions still push and yearn for asking in my mind, but Faran-Zhuku will answer them when he does, and not before. Hopefully before I go insane.

My room, never a bastion of cleanliness to begin with, has succumbed entirely to the outpouring of drawings generated by the visions. Hundreds of drawings and impromptu paintings providing a still image of Shoma family secrets. Secrets that even some of the old Dzuni don't know about each other, but that I, Haku, a fifteen-year-old boy, part of the youngest generation, have been allowed unconditional glimpses of. I spent the night after graduation, listening to Hatsuharu play a bittersweet violin melody, flipping through the hundreds of drawings, remembering each vision. Then, the final vision, the end of the old curse, the beginning of ours.


	19. Chapter 21

Today's Cameos: Tohru's mother, whom I've renamed Noha. I don't recall if she actually had a name in FB. Arisa becomes Zhula, and Hanajima is Hanadzima. Just to make it clear, the city Lhasa has several neighborhoods: Mhagenu, where the Shoma estate is, is one, and Gashuni, which appears in this chap, is another one. Todhazi is also in Lhasa. This chapter starts a segment that flashes back into the pasts of the original FB characters. Don't despair—if your favorite character hasn't appeared yet, that will change soon:)

Disclaimer:

FB ain't mine, doo wah, doo wah

Nor is anything else

You recognize, doo wah

**Chapter 21**

_Haku_

Noha. Mileshi Noha.

That was her name, the name of the black-haired woman I'd drawn, grinning broadly and flashing three fingers in a common gang symbol, in the cheap painted wooden frame Lhoru treasured as her dearest possession. She had been called the "Wind of Fire" in her gang leader days, because of the brightly-colored reddish-orange cape that would flare out behind her when her masculine scooter roared down the dark streets of Lhasa. Her brown eyes could burn with an intensity like no others, yet they invariably turned doting whenever Lhoru appeared. The Wind of Fire was a devoted mother. Somehow or other, she'd manage to turn away from the gang life and marry the politest, sweetest, and most wholesome man, whom Lhoru was the spitting image of. His name was Mileshi Dhozu.

The death of Dhozu. One night both Dhozu and Noha had arrived home from trying days at work, and they were exhausted and in foul moods. A tiff over grocery shopping mushroomed into a screaming fight. Dhozu stormed out of the apartment, forgetting the harithe warnings forecast for the night. Immediately after the icy high wind started screeching, Dhozu ran back through the front door, Noha throwing a warm blanket over him.

But it was too late. The brief exposure led to Dhozu's death, a week and a half later, of pneumonia, gasping and drowning in his own lungs. Lhoru was only two and a half years old then. Even now, Noha's devastated screams reverberate, bouncing off the walls of my cranium. She disintegrated, barely able to perform the daily functions of life without crying.

One night, about two weeks after the funeral, heavy rain pounded the tiny balcony of the apartment Noha and Lhoru had moved to, because it was more affordable. Harithe warnings had been broadcast. Lhoru lay napping on the floor in front of the beat-up sofa that Noha sat upon. Noha stared into space, entranced by the rain.

"I can't do this," she muttered. "All by myself…moving…I'll have to take two jobs to support me and the baby, pay the rent. Deal with those relatives. I can't do without you, my darling Dhozu. Dhozu…" She stood up shakily, walked over to the balcony's sliding door. Noha opened the door, stepped out into the rain. "I'm coming, Dhozu…" Leaning over the balcony, smiling.

"Mama?" The high-pitched voice carried over the rhythmic tapping of the rain and the far-off soft rumble of thunder. "Mama?"

Still leaning over the balcony, Noha stopped. She straightened up, turned around, and saw an alien child sitting up, her green dress slightly wrinkled.

"Mama!" The child smiled.

Lhoru, it was little Lhoru, Dhozu's child…What had Noha been thinking, that she'd just been about to abandon her dead husband's baby? Noha walked inside, soaked socks squishing onto the mildewed carpet, and swept Lhoru into a bonecrunching hug.

"What did you just say, bitch?" demanded a junior-high version of Zhula to a beaming, proud Lhoru. The visions continued their tendency of jumping from one episode to another, although by now I sensed a common emotional string running through them. It took me a long time to figure out, but it was the desire to be accepted, to be loved, to be part of a family. That was why these visions were always hard on me—because it was a desire that I felt keenly in my heart, even if I couldn't articulate it at first.

Zhula and Lhoru faced each other in yet another school hallway, their junior high, I assumed. Rather than the ugly cream-colored uniform, Zhula wore full gang regalia: orange cloths wrapped around both hands, a long, dark brown shirt, and a somewhat too-tight tank top with a leather jacket covering it.

"Yes, "Wind of Fire" was my mother's nickname when she was still a gang leader," repeated Lhoru, nodding her head. Zhula stared at her incredulously, then grit her teeth.

"The Wind of Fire's daughter wouldn't be a fucking goody-goody," growled Zhula, raising her right fist, "she'd be a real gangster, someone tough and good with a knife, not you." She spat the last word out. "You keep mocking me, you going to learn what a punch from a gang girl feels like."

"Please, come and meet my mother!" Lhoru said, bowing, oblivious to the threatening fist. "You want to meet her so badly, and I couldn't possibly keep you from that!"

I could not believe it when I heard Lhoru say that. Personally, I'd be running away from an angry gang member, or else siccing Faran-Zhuku on him.

Zhula's mouth dropped open, and she reluctantly agreed to accompany Lhoru to her house after school. The neighborhood Lhoru and her mother lived in was a decent one; I'd been driven through it before. It contained a mixture of small houses, apartment complexes and family stores. Mostly middle- and upper-lower-class people lived there. Lhoru skipped happily along the sidewalk—it'd just been de-iced from the most recent ice storm—and Zhula followed, glancing around her self-consciously.

Lhoru lurched as a woman wrapped her arms around Lhoru and swung her in the air. "Lhoru, Lhoru! My little girl! What luck we met on the way home!" exclaimed Noha, planting a loud smack on Lhoru's cheek. Noha's hair was now short; in previous visions, she'd had chest-length, flowing hair.

"Now, now, who's this?" Noha said, noticing the gangster girl close by, who'd frozen into a stiff upright posture, arms folded defiantly across her chest.

"This is Zhula from school," Lhoru said. "Zhula, this is my mother, the Wind of Fire. She always wanted to meet you, Mom, so I invited her over."

"Hello, Zhula, you must come in for a little while." If Noha felt any reservations about her daughter being with a gangster, which she must've, she didn't show it. "So terribly cold today, you must have some hot cocoa. Lhoru makes the most wonderful hot cocoa."

"Oh, Mom, that's not true," Lhoru said, blushing.

"Nonsense, Lhoru, you must stop being so modest once in a while," chided Noha, unlocking the door that led to their apartment complex. Once inside the apartment, which was cramped and a little dingy, but well-kept, Noha installed Zhula at the table, and went into the kitchen with Lhoru. Zhula looked around. She saw clothes drying on a rack. Pictures of Noha and Lhoru filled every imaginable niche. Occasionally a man with a gentle smile appeared.

"I wonder if that's her father?" Zhula wondered idly. "What happened to him? As if I care."

"Hot cocoa for everybody!" announced Lhoru, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs. "Here, Zhula! I hope it tastes good enough, I might not have put enough sugar—"

"Now, now, Lhoru, sit down and enjoy your cocoa!" ordered Noha in a playful tone. "Please forgive the laundry, Zhula, I'd meant to take it the Laundromat, but then the storm came…"

Images of the Wind of Fire from yore flickered through Zhula's mind, the stories her older gang mentor, Feni, had told her. Noha wearing her famous cape, cigarette in mouth, flying down the street to beat down some upstart girls. Now the Wind of Fire does laundry! She works at a real job! She's a loving mother! Zhula watched as Lhoru and Noha became utterly drawn in with each other, smiling and laughing. This was too much.

"I came here to see the Wind of Fire! What the hell happened to you?" yelled Zhula, standing up abruptly.

"Guess it was time for a change." Noha shrugged her shoulders philosophically.

"I gotta get home anyway," mumbled Zhula lamely, attempting to cover her shock.

"Your parents need you?" asked Noha.

"Yeah, as if they would." Zhula blinked as she realized what she'd let slip. She rushed through a door, only to find herself in a bedroom. There was that man again, in a photo sitting on the nightstand by the bed. She sat down on the bed, shoulders slumped. What had come over her? Why the hell did Noha and Lhoru bother her so much? That feeling between them…the loving feeling. They had each other, could depend on each other, Noha was there for Lhoru…

The tears snuck down her face. She'd never had something like that! Her mother had left for another man when Zhula was in first grade. Now her father was just another sad fucking drunkard, just sitting in front of the TV and not giving a shit about her, Zhula, his only child. Joining a gang in fifth grade had been the most natural thing to do. Feni and the Wind of Fire were her idols, and now the Wind of Fire…

"Fuck, it's not fair," cursed Zhula, brashly sweeping away large teardrops. She didn't hear the door open.

"Growing girls need their cocoa." Noha tiptoed in. "Don't let yours get cold."

Zhula raised her head, intending to give Noha a dirty look.

"Would you like to see my cape while you're here? I still have it." Noha smiled, a smile that told Zhula she understood the complex undercurrents of gang life. "I've taken good care of the cape."

"R-really? You'll let me see it?" Zhula asked.

"You can even touch it!" laughed Noha. "And you're welcome here whenever you need to get away from your gang for a little while," she added in a softer undertone.

After that, it was a foregone conclusion that Zhula and Lhoru would become best friends, although no one at school could believe their friendship at first. And of course, Zhula had to pay the gang's price for going straight. She was badly injured in the kickout. Feni, who felt strongly that Zhula should have a good life if she wanted it, snuck away and alerted Noha. The first time Zhula opened her eyes during the kickout, she saw the Wind of Fire, standing tall, poised to take on the girls, an expression of unforgiving determination on her face. The moonlight made her body's contours gleam.

When the other gangsters fled her onslaught, Noha carried Zhula back to the apartment and nursed her wounds.

"Don't move, you're badly injured," said Noha as Zhula attempted to sit up on the springy old sofa. Lhoru rushed back and forth, collecting towels and first-aid supplies. Noha inspected Zhula's legs, arms and face.

"You're very lucky, you know," Noha whispered, "to have a mentor who cared enough to help you. Most girls don't escape with such minor injuries in a kickout."

"Was it bad for you?" mumbled Zhula. Noha must've been kicked out, too.

"No, I was never kicked out," the older woman smiled, as if reading Zhula's thoughts. "They were too scared of me. After all, I was the Wind of Fire. Mind you, I'm not proud of myself for beating off a bunch of young girls tonight. But you needed help, so be it." She smiled broadly at Zhula, who returned the smile.

Another former gang girl had just become an honorary member of Noha and Lhoru's small family.

Not unexpectedly, Lhoru became a target of teasing for her unusual relationship with Zhula. Luckily for Lhoru, Zhula remained by her side, to fend off the gossipy girls. She might not be in a gang any more, but Zhula still knew how to intimidate people. A certain stance, or a well-timed glare, usually got the message across, and the offenders would slink away.

In the second year of junior high (only once in a while did Faran-Zhuku think to give me chronological references), Shatha Hanadzima transferred to Lhoru and Zhula's school. The two first encounted Hanadzima sitting under a tree in the courtyard, her back perfectly erect, reading a book. Even in this calm pose, stormy blue eyes capable of piercing one's soul looked out from under black hair gathered into one plait down her backside. Students instinctively gave her a wide berth, uncomfortable under the all-knowing eyes.

"She's wearing a black choker, and black nailpolish, too," Zhula whispered to Lhoru.

"Oh, she must be a new student," Lhoru said. "She shouldn't be alone, someone should welcome her." She began walking before Zhula could stop her.

As the girls approached the solitary reader, a cold, crawling sensation passed through Zhula's body. She shivered slightly, but kept pace with Lhoru, who showed no signs of being similarly affected. Hanadzima finally looked up from her book, her face expressionless.

"Hello, welcome to Gashuni," Lhoru bowed, "my name is Mileshi Lhoru, and this is my friend, Zhula." Locking eyes with the new student, Zhula considered her for a long time. She smiled, realizing that this girl was on the fringes of junior high society, just like she and Lhoru.

"Hi there," Zhula waved one hand. "What's your name?"

The mysterious girl also smiled. "Shatha Hanadzima."

"Where you from?"

"Todhazi." A pause. "I caused a little trouble there last year."

"Oh, what happened?" Lhoru's face crinkled into a concerned frown.

"One of the boys had been teasing me, and I zapped him with my electric waves," Hanadzima answered bluntly yet dispassionately. Her countenance took on a meditative appearance. "I do believe he might've come out of his coma by now. I might've been a tad harsh on him."

Zhula laughed. "Electric waves? Girl, you'll fit right in with us. Lhoru here's the world's most unbelievable sweetheart, and I'm a former gangster."

"Yes, my waves told me that you had good hearts." The hard glint seeped away from Hanadzima's eyes. Yes, she could trust these girls. Lhoru was simpleminded, but Hanadzima had rarely sensed so much compassion in an individual. The ex-gangster would never turn on her friend and had good instincts about character. Her heart was also large, but in a different way from Lhoru.

"What are these waves of yours?" Lhoru had never heard of such things before. There were rumors of people who possessed spiritual or magical abilities, but Lhoru didn't pay attention.

"I possess the ability to sense the electric vibes of humans," explained Hanadzima. "I can detect one's emotions and dark thoughts, and send out vibes of my own, as I did with the boy I told you about. Such abilities run in my family. My brother, Hozo, for example, can curse people just using their names. My grandmother, who lives with me, my brother, and my parents, is able to move objects with her mind. Very useful for housekeeping, indeed. My father, alas, is a completely normal human being. He lacks any special aptitude for such things. He does not mind, though, of that I am certain."

"What a fascinating family!" remarked Lhoru. "Hanadzima, we'd be honored if you'd allow us to show you around the school."

"You must excuse her," Zhula rested a hand on Lhoru's head, "she's excessively polite. It comes from her late father." She winked at Hanadzima.

"Oh! You must come over to my apartment, so you can see more of the area. Todhazi's far from here. We wouldn't want you to get lost," added Lhoru.

"Beware, Hana," Zhula intoned in a mocking voice of impending doom, "once you enter Lhoru's apartment, it is almost impossible to escape her caring clutches."

Hanadzima replied with a small smile. Lhoru looked slightly confused. Now Lhoru had a second best friend and protector. Harassers of Lhoru quickly felt the effects of Hanadzima's waves and Lhoru lived out the rest of her junior high existence in peace, with her mother, Zhula and Hanadzima to keep her company.


	20. Chapter 22

Character Cameo: Ayame whirls onto the scene as Ahame!

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 22**

Of all the visions he forced Haku to live through, the Dzuni ones concerned Faran-Zhuku the most. During his more lucid moments, he constantly reassured himself that Haku had a strong character. Certainly his not having gone insane up to this point bore proof of the resilient core within him. Still, as Faran-Zhuku knew all too well, the human mind was nothing more than a house of matches: take out part of the foundation, and it would collapse, or, even worse, let a spark near it and flames would engulf it. In his bad moments, when he purposely retreated deep inside Haku's subconscious to lessen the possibility of accidentally going on a murderous spree, past memories of the men and women he'd possessed before the onset of the family curse flitted in and out. Taking a knife to their wrists, jumping from a cliff, digging a sword into their bellies…when they couldn't take the burden of the visions anymore.

During these moments of torment, Faran-Zhuku would wonder if he'd been wrong to tell the boy that he had the potential to be one of the great Faran-Hat-Zhukus. The ones who could deal with the weighty burden, learn to live with it, always deserved his most profound respect. Maybe it was false encouragement…Gods, he must be going soft if he was this concerned about Haku! In the past, when Faran-Hat-Zhukus committed suicide, the ghost merely moved on to the next newborn in the family and renewed the cycle. 500 years of imprisonment had not been healthy. Faran-Zhuku chuckled wryly to himself. Lone wolves never did respond well to being chained, unable to roam freely.

But he must try. He must try to make Haku fully understand the Dzuni fully, meaning Haku would have to experience the pain the cursed ones underwent. Faran-Zhuku growled. So frustrating, being limited to the memories of the last generation of cursed Dzuni, Asheno's generation. Transferring his memories of the real Dzuni to Haku would make it much easier to explain the true nature of the Dzuni, and how the curse started. Unfortunately, those memories existed in a jumbled format, that even he couldn't sort out. Only one Dzuni would have the power capable of interpreting the scrambled memories correctly, but some time would pass before it was born.

In the meantime, Haku should experience the cursed Dzunis' memories from their own perspectives more often. Fully comprehending their mindsets was vital to understanding the effect of the curse. The phantom wolf would start with one Haku was already familiar with: Huki.

Haku reached for his ebony pencil for a little doodling, and his hand grasped only air. Then he realized he couldn't see his hand anymore; it was pitch black in the room.

"Hey, what the he—" No vocalization came from his mouth.

**"Quiet,"** rumbled the wolf. **"I putting you inside Huki's memories. Shut up and watch."**

The blackness slowly resolved itself into degrees: one small square portal, no larger than an average-sized novel, filtered faint moonlight into the blackness. His mind clearing, Haku allowed himself to melt completely into Huki's memory. This was when Huki was a very small boy, no more than five. The boy wrapped his delicate hands inside the sleeves of his hekasho, and shivered. The room was cold. And it was so small, he only had enough space to sit down or stand in place. He couldn't leave, even though his stomach rumbled with hunger and he had to pee really badly. Thirsty, too.

He had locked the door.

"You've been a bad litlle rat. I shall have to punish you," his god, Asheno, had told him. "I have a special room, prepared especially for you."

And Asheno had put him in this tiny, dark place. Huki's muscles froze at the sound of creaking.

Maybe there were monsters, lurking in the corners, waiting to snatch him if he moved. The boy remained deathly still. What had he done to deserve this? Huki couldn't understand why he was here.

Time passed, slothlike, as Huki resisted the impulse to move, drawing further and further inside himself. He shut his eyes tightly, to block out the evil shadows created by the moonlight.

"Perhaps now you shall come when I call for you, hmm?"

Huki slowly raised his head and opened his eyes. Asheno's silhouette stood before him in the doorway.

"Yes, that's it, you're learning. You may come out now."

His legs prickled in protest as he stretched them, shakily standing up. Huki took a few wobbly steps forward.

"What a shame, that you forced me to punish you," Asheno murmured, stroking Huki on the head. "As the rat, you are a special child. I do not desire to shut that beautiful face of yours in a dark room."

Beautiful face…"Why couldn't he look like a normal child?" Huki heard his mother's voice, a comment he overheard a few days ago. "He's too…beautiful and feminine."

"Your brother is waiting to take you home. Go." A wave of the hand towards the open garden doors, and Asheno swept through the door to his bedroom. Mechanically, Huki walked onto the back patio.

His older brother by ten years, Ahame, who he barely knew. The flashy, overly dramatic snake of the Dzuni. He never paid much attention to Huki, often confined to bed because of bad asthma. Huki coughed. Ahame was at school most of the time, and the rest of the time he spent with Shehure and Hathori, his closest friends.

The fifteen-year-old, who resembled Khosure exactly, stood with his back to Huki. An embryonic gleam of hope budded within Huki; maybe Ahame could help him with Asheno. He was so much older, after all.

Silently, Huki stepped towards Ahame, who remained unconscious of his younger brother's presence. Finally, the rat stood just behind the snake. Huki reached out, haltingly, to touch Ahame's arm.

The teenager turned around, surprised, and looked down at the small hand on his sleeve and the haggard face of his baby brother. Ahame shook his hand free of Huki's grasp.

"Come on, it's late." Ahame trotted off to the family house, leaving Huki standing forlornly in the moonlight.

Shoma Ahame, Haku soon learned, had a hidden dark side, like Khosure did.

A ten-year-old Ahame frolicked in the grass in his house's backyard, his mother smiling and watching from the kitchen window. Judging from the number of toys scattered in the yard, Ahame was far from being a deprived child.

"Are you watching, Mama?" he demanded loudly.

"Yes, of course, dear," responded the dirty blonde-haired woman. Her tight bun contained several gray streaks. She had dark, puffy circles under her eyes. Ahame smiled and went on with his antics. He failed to notice as his mother's face suddenly constricted, and she screamed. Haku realized that she was pregnant with Huki.

Ahame froze at the scream. He'd never seen his mother in such pain before—usually she was very stoic. Then again, he never paid much attention to people around him, except for Hathori and Shehure.

Ahame's father, an average-looking sort of man, came running to his wife's aid.

"It's too early," she sobbed. "Two more months…"

"It'll be all right," the man tried to comfort her, "lots of seven-month old babies survive." Nonetheless, an undertone of anxiety pervaded his voice.

"No! Dzuni babies are born at seven months! I don't want another one of _them_!" She shoved her husband's arm aside, suddenly wild-eyed and furious.

"Honey, the boy!" whispered Ahame's father desperately.

Ahame gaped, shell-shocked, in the exact same posture Huki enacted when Ahame brushed him aside five years later.

"We accept Shoma Huki, the rat, into the family." New Year's Eve, near the end of winter. Haku could tell because the room and décor were exactly the same. The antique, circular blackwood table was still used by Asheno today, for the Dzuni banquet on New Year's Eve. The Dzuni banquet was a Shoma family tradition—for those who knew about the curse, that is. On every New Year's Eve, the head of the family, the Dzuni god, would host a banquet only for members of the Dzuni. The Dzuni would sit at their assigned seats, arranged according to the order of the calendar—the god in the grandest, most elegant chair, the rat on the right-hand chair, and after that, cow, dragon, snake, sheep, bird, horse, monkey, tiger, dog, and boar. No place for the cat—the cat was expressly forbidden from attending the Dzuni banquet.

Asheno had actually condescended to explain the banquet to Haku and Hatsuharu when they were old enough, except he left out the part about the Dzuni. Since he could first remember, he and Hatsuharu had been forced to spend New Year's Eve with Asheno. The three would spend the entire night in silence, the hostility growing heavier with each passing year. The emptiness of the room only enhanced the silence, and created an echo whenever someone spoke. Elaborately carved animals on the unclaimed chairs were the three's only other companions in the room. Each chair contained carvings of its Dzuni's respective animal, usually accompanied by what Haku now knew were flame tree blossoms.

Haku usually spent the time staring at the intricate whorls and labyrinthine lines in the surface of the blackwood table. Blackwood was extremely rare—it could only be obtained from the trunks of flame trees. No other decoration adorned the table because it was considered sacrilegious to mar the wood any more than had already been done. The whorls and lines shone a deeper blac than the rest of the tabletop, and when Haku unfocused his eyes, the whorls shifted into islands and the twisty lines into waves. He fantasized an ancient map, telling of a land long gone and scintillating adventures long forgotten. It helped keep him from provoking Asheno and making an unpleasant night more unpleasant.

The boys always had to wear formal hekashos, made of a rich but extremely heavy fabric similar to brocade. Each Dzuni wore a special outfit to the banquet, which were carefully stored and refitted each year. Hatsuharu wore a relatively simple wine-red hekasho with a silver undergarment to bring out his gray eyes. The dog's hekasho, which Haku had, was deep teal, held in place by a black belt glistening with gold embroidery of a pack of dogs running. The belt miffed Haku because it looked like the dogs were eternally running and running around in a circle, never getting anywhere, no destination to reach.

At the start of the banquet, the family head would always make a traditional speech welcoming a new member, if one had passed away and been replaced. Then the head would say a blessing for good fortune, and signal the start of the feast. Servants were allowed into the room only when everyone had finished eating the sumptuous courses, to take away the dishes. This happened precisely fifteen minutes before midnight, the official start of the New Year. Five minutes before midnight, when the servants left for good, the Dzunis representing the old year and the upcoming year would rise. At midnight, they began a ritual dance, to herald the arrival of the New Year. When the dance ended, everybody was free to socialize and talk, as they wished. They never left the room before 6 a.m.

At this particular banquet, most of the seats were full. Huki had just been born, so that meant Hathori, Shehure and Ahame were all ten. Hathori kept glancing worriedly at Ahame, sitting with eyes and face carved of stone. Diminutive Huki wailed weakly, barely visible in a mass of blankets, from his portable cradle secured to the rat's chair. To Ahame's left sat a proud, elderly man, the sheep, his hair now white, his grayish-brown eyes overwhelmed by a wrinkled face. The only other elderly members at the table were the horse, who bore an eerie resemblance to a bad-tempered version of Lhurone, and the tiger, a bowed old woman with orange-brown hair and matching eyes. The cow and rabbit were missing. They had probably passed away during the old year.

On the sheep's left, the bird boy sat absolutely still. He was a few years younger than Hathori and his companions, probably seven or so. Haku thought he might be Hathori's brother—the only difference was that the bird had a sharper nose, small round black eyes, and a brighter shade of red hair. A little girl—or boy, Haku couldn't tell—squirmed nervously next to the horse, in the monkey's chair. The girl/boy sucked her thumb.

"Stop sucking your thumb, boy," hissed the horse. The boy looked down, frightened, a deep scarlet blush covering his face.

On Shehure's left sat a little female Khezuke, eyes heavy with sleep. She was practically still a baby, perhaps only three or four. Several times she nearly hit her head on the table after dozing off, and Shehure had to nudge her awake.

And in between the boar and miserably wailing rat, sat three-year old Asheno. Even then, observed Haku, he looked unhealthy. His pale face sweated under the strain of his magnificent hekasho's heaviness. Automatically, he delivered the traditional speech without any real comprehension of what he was saying.

"May the rat flourish, and may we find comfort after the deaths of the cow, the rabbit, and the mother of the snake." Ahame's mother lost too much blood during Huki's delivery. A miasma of feelings ranging from shock and grief at her death, to anger and denial over her screams about not wanting Dzuni children, roiled inside the snake.

"Let us eat, and may we have a fot-fortis…for-tu-it-tous New Year." Asheno labored through the difficult word. He plopped onto his chair, and dishes made their way around the table.

Hurried knocking disrupted the meal. A servant pushed open the main door, immediately bowing deeply in apology.

"You know you're not supposed to come in here unless I say so!" yelled Asheno.

"Please forgive me, sire, but one of the women has gone into labor. It is tradition to inform the family head if a Shoma delivers at seven months. She may be giving birth as I speak," said the servant, keeping her head down.

"Thank you, you may go now." The young head became alert. "Shina, Mihoshi, Shehure, you will take me to the woman." The horse, sheep, and dog obediently rose from their seats. "Hathori and Ahame will stay here and watch everyone else. Take especially good care of Huki. I like him, you know."

Asheno put his small hand into Shehure's. He'd always favored the dog, who could always calm him down during one of his frequent tantrums. The small group made their way to the birthing room. As they neared, they heard loud screams, followed by a woman's voice yelling, "What's wrong? What's wrong with my baby?"

"Oh, no, the cat has been born," groaned Shina. "This is going to be ugly."

"You should not see the cat," Mihoshi said to Asheno, "you're too young to see him right now."

"No! Take me inside!" commanded Asheno. They had no choice but to comply. Shina pushed open the door.

The doctor had backed against the wall, and the nurse sprawled on a chair in a dead faint. A whimpering came from the floor, under the mother's outstretched legs.

"What's that?" Asheno demanded, pointing at the wriggling brown mass, still covered in blood and mucus. It had a flat, triangular head, a stumpy neck and body, and oversized legs and arms that folded like a grasshopper's. Sharp claws already protruded from its feet.

"That is the cat, in its true form," announced Mihoshi, grimly.

The mother had managed to sit up by now. She followed the Dzunis' looks to where her new son lay on the floor.

"Is that…my baby?" she asked.

"Yes," affirmed Shina. "Your son, the cat of the Dzuni."

"I didn't think this would happen." That struck Shehure as an odd thing to say, considering mothers of the cat usually went into hysterics. "My baby..." She got out of the bed, knees shaking, and fell to her knees. She picked up the bundle, her eyes glassy. "My baby." She hugged it closer, avoiding looking at him directly.

By now everyone was feeling the effects of the smell emanating from the cat. It was the smell of bloated corpses on the battlefield, baking in the sun.

"It's disgusting! Take me out of here, Shina!" The horse yanked Asheno out of the room. But Shehure and Mihoshi stayed.

His sensitive canine nose begged for relief from the smell. Putting his hand over his nose, Shehure murmured, "Why is the cat the only one with an original form?"

The old sheep stayed silent. Shehure glanced up and saw despair and grief in Mihoshi's eyes.

"We'll have to get Hathori to erase the doctor's and nurse's memories," Mihoshi finally remarked. The other three people were paying no attention; shock continued to hold a relentless grip on them. Mihoshi looked at Shehure, then kneeled down, his arthritic knees making his movements jerky. He placed his hand under Shehure's chin, and guided the dog's face closer to his own.

Speaking in a nearly inaudible whisper, Mihoshi told Shehure, "The former cat, Omeshu, was a good friend of mine. I defied the head's orders never to visit the cat. The cat does not deserve this suffering. None of the Dzuni deserve to suffer under a curse like this. I've watched you for a long time now. You do not accept the curse blindly; you constantly question it. That is why I am telling you this now, before I die. Find the cure. For the gods' sake, for the family's sake, I'm begging you, find the cure so the needless suffering of future generations can be stopped. Please.

"Promise me the following: that you will remember the cat is just like the rest of you. That you will help the other Dzunis deal with Asheno. He likes you, but he is already showing signs of the god-sickness corrupting his mind. And find the cure. Find the cure."

Shehure remained silent, at the adamant tone of the hurried, despondent words.

"Please, promise me."

"Yes, Mihoshi, I promise." Steely determination filled the dog's eyes. Flashes of Shehure sitting on the garden wall, his very first vision, zipped through Haku's mind. "Someday, Mihoshi, the curse will end, and we can all find happiness."

The old sheep smiled and nodded. Patting Shehure's cheek, he added one final caveat. "Tell absolutely no one about this. Asheno would find out, and it would be very nasty." Sighing, Mihoshi exited the room.

"My baby. My baby." Shehure looked at the cat's mother, rocking back and forth with the thing in her arms. Her eyes glittered feverishly and a strained smile appeared on her face. Shehure knew she would have to be watched carefully in the future.

A beautiful spring day appeared before Haku. The sky a gentle blue, a benevolent breeze tickling the budding branches.

A ten-year-old boy sat on the garden wall, his black school shirt half-unbuttoned. Two boys stood below him, looking up at him.

Gazing at the sky, his voice reverent and emotion-filled, Shehure spoke.

"Last night, I dreamt I was with the one I loved. She accepted me for who I was. The curse didn't matter. We laughed, hugged, kissed. Nothing came between us, we were not punished for being together. No fear, no anxiety, just wonderful sweet, passionate love. Free to spend the rest of our lives admiring sunsets together…" He trailed off, smiling at the memory.

"Then it was gone. That sweet passion…I held it in my hands, like a little bird, but it flew away and disappeared."

Ahame sobbed, and Hathori's eyes shined. Shehure swallowed as tears flowed down his face. Defiantly, his voice remained steady.

"I will find that happiness."

"We're cursed, Shehure," spoke Hathori quietly. "It's very difficult."

"No. Someday I will grasp that passion once again. No matter what I have to or who I have to hurt to find it again, I will find it again." He wiped the tears away. "Yes, and it won't disappear next time."

Gasping, Haku found himself staring at the wall, the same wall Shehure had made his vow so many years ago. The sun shone, and the cheery blue of the sky stretched to a vast extent.

A bird trilled.

"Someday, I will be free. I'll be happy too," Haku said to the wall. The wall stood unresponsively, solid stone as before.


	21. Chapter 23

More for you, my loyal fans! RitsuRhishu

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, nor is anything else you recognize. I am a college student, so it really isn't worth suing me :)

**Chapter 23**

The curse formed the crux of Shoma Shehure's thinking. He'd been there, three years ago, when Asheno's predecessor, Hathori's father Ekhuze, died. As per tradition, all the living Dzuni were summoned to Ekhuze's bedside once the doctor decided the end was approaching. Shehure, then seven years old, and Ahame each sat on one side of Hathori. The young dragon stared at his frothing, thrashing father the entire time. His mother wasn't there—she had left long ago, agreeing to bear Hathori and Hatharu only as part of a business proposition. Shehure and Ahame were Hathori's real family. Only they had any real conception of the suffering Hathori had borne at Ekhuze's hands.

Two months before, the little dog and snake stumbled upon Hathori sitting on a rock in the northwest corner, quietly sobbing. When Ahame touched his shoulder, Hathori flinched and tried in vain to hide the pain. His friends, however, discovered the large, angry bruises appearing on his shoulders and backside.

"How many times has your father done this?" Shehure remembered asking Hathori.

"This is the first time," replied the dragon, but too quickly for Shehure's comfort. Shehure correctly guessed that Ekhuze beat Hathori often, and Hatharu, too. It was impossible for the dog's sharp ears to miss the servants' and Dzunis' hushed conversations about Ekhuze's screaming fits and how one servant needed stitches after being attacked by him. How like Hathori to try to hide it, to keep his dearest friends from worrying. Already, at the age of seven, Hathori was well-known among the Dzuni for his compassion and his tendency to always put others' troubles before his. He was forever digging Shehure and Ahame out of the conundrums they got into.

The sight of the dark green bruise made Shehure's blood boil.

"Hathori, we're here, it's okay," Ahame hugged the boy, trying to brush away his tears.

Family head or no, Shehure couldn't just let this pass. Hathori didn't deserve such abominable treatment.

"I'm going to get some ice for Hathori," lied Shehure, running towards the house.

"Okay, Hure," called Ahame, using his pet name for Shehure.

The dog snuck by the servants soundlessly. Ekhuze lived in the wing occupied by every Dzuni god in family history, up through Asheno. As he followed Shehure's memories, deep foreboding entered Haku's mind when he saw Shehure slide into the exact same parlor where he'd had so many altercations with Asheno. But instead of Asheno, an even more skeletal and pallid man lay on a divan next to the bay window. A tank stood by the divan, within easy reach of the man. Oxygen. Ekhuze had the same color hair and eyes, except his hair was shoulder-length. The rasping of his breathing could be heard clearly throughout the room.

As Ekhuze slowly settled into a sitting position, the dog felt his courage quiver. The head's eyes were wide open, the whites startlingly visible, and the irises glazed with an expression Shehure couldn't identify.

Madman, Shehure had once heard a servant say, spitting teeth and blood into her hand after bringing dinner to Ekhuze.

He considered apologizing and leaving. The memory of the livid bruises steeled his faltering reserve.

"Good evening, my God," Shehure said, bowing jerkily. "I came here to tell you not to beat Hathori and Hatharu anymore." Ooh, he hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. A feeling of dread grew as he waited for Ekhuze's response.

The crazed eyes looked at Shehure endlessly. "And why shouldn't I beat them? They are my Dzuni." The crackly, weak voice laughed. "If they disobey me, they must pay. You Dzuni are always so ungrateful to the god who's sacrificing his life so that you may live. I am 21. I will die before my 25th birthday. That is the way it's always been. I will die, alone in my misery, and all of you will be glad for my death." The mouth twisted itself into a furious grimace, then a devilish smile. "If you're going to be so happy at my death anyway, I might as well make you even happier."

Unexpectedly strong hands gripped the neck of Shehure's hekasho, as he sat, mesmerized by the deadly, grating words. Haku had experienced that same feeling of surprise every time Asheno's fragile-looking body took on an inhuman strength in anger. Ekhuze lifted the boy off his feet, and dragged him towards an old wooden door concealed by a tapestry. Ekhuze and the struggling Shehure disappeared down a dark stairway.

"This is a special place for the dog," Ekhuze finally stopped, his breathing labored. Shehure's eyes widened as he scanned the small wire cage, barely large enough to contain his body curled up. Shehure kicked more fiercely, but in the end Ekhuze overpowered him and stuffed him into the contraption.

"I think one night in here will make you a good doggie," cooed Ekhuze, oblivious to the bites and scratches Shehure had given him. He turned, leaving the boy locked in a cramped blackness.

Two months later, as he watched his dying god, Shehure thought that no doubt he was happy Ekhuze was dying. Nevertheless, he kept his face somber on purpose. It would be a hot day in Gobrin before he satisfied Ekhuze's predictions that his death would bring happiness to the Dzuni.

The rattling and screaming stilled abruptly. The tense muscles relaxed and settled onto the bedclothes. The eyes still stared, deranged, up at the ceiling, all movement ceased.

"Thank God," the old horse said at last, "he's dead!" Several of the older Dzuni, and some of the younger, including Ahame, smiled. Hathori let out an audible sigh of relief, slumping in his seat. Shehure saw Hatharu silently mouth thanks.

"Aren't you glad he's dead?" asked Ahame, noticing Shehure's grim look for the first time.

"No. I refuse to be glad."

Shehure was present at the birth of Asheno, five months later. When he sensed his end nearing, Ekhuze had hired a woman, to insure that a new baby would quickly be available to replace him. He hadn't fathered Asheno—no one was certain who Asheno's parents were, for the woman had left afterwards and the father some stranger she'd lured to her bed.

"Too bad he'll go insane," the sheep murmured as the Dzuni beheld their new god, still bloody from the birth and wailing thinly. The youngest Dzuni, the monkey and boar, took fright at the grotesque child and were lead out of the room.

"This child marks the sixth Dzuni god I've known in my lifetime," the ancient tiger remarked matter-of-factly.

_I will die, alone in my misery, and all of you will be glad for my death._

Ekhuze's words thudded in Shehure's mind. The memories of that night still burned. No, there was no reason to be glad when the god died. Another one would come along, to renew the cycle of misery among the Dzuni.

_They are my Dzuni._

Did they really belong to the god? Unconsciously, the dog's brain said yes, the Dzuni belongs to the god, and they must obey the god. But why? Why? Shehure's voice of reason couldn't accept the instinct to obey for no good reason.

_That is the way it's always been._

"Does it always have to be like this?" Shehure wondered out loud. Only the sheep heard him.

That evening, after drinking the traditional toast to Asheno, and performing the traditional oath of allegiance to the new god, Shehure escaped to the northwest corner. The first hint of frost hung delicately in the air. Wandering the meandering paths aimlessly, the dog found himself looking up at Old Blood.

_That is the way it's always been._

The Dzuni were invariably either rejected by their parents, or overprotected by them. Shehure had been relatively lucky—his parents had been squeamish at first at the prospect of raising a baby who'd turned into a blind, deaf, whimpering puppy when embraced by his mother after birth. Still, they had tried to have a baby for so long that they were willing to give Shehure a chance once the curse had been explained to them. He enjoyed an unusually viable relationship with both parents. Stories abounded of despairing mothers committing suicide, fathers sinking into alcohol, both parents going insane, turning siblings against their cursed brethren…Hathori and Hatharu's mother had just abandoned them, and Ekhuze had been no prize in the parental department.

The mother of Rhishu, the toddler monkey, seemed loving enough to Shehure, but Rhishu's father had serious problems. Already, Shehure could see self-esteem problems developing in poor Rhishu. Certainly, why shouldn't he have problems after listening to his father blame his mother for Rhishu's "condition" in one of their extremely audible arguments? Whenever Shehure saw Rhishu's father, he never smiled and his cheeks were always flushed from drinking too much wine.

The father of Khagura, the boar, had left her mother after she was born. The tiger once mentioned she'd been raised by Shehure's predecessor when her mother threw herself off a balcony. The tiger, cow, sheep, horse, rat, and rabbit were all elderly. Surely, as new Dzuni replaced the older ones, Shehure would see more examples of parental dysfunction in his lifetime.

_That is the way it's always been._

Dzuni rarely ever married outside of the family. Usually they married each other, or occasionally a trusted relative. It was not unheard of for Dzuni to resort to dalliances with the estate servants to relieve their sexual needs. That offered fewer problems than risking a broken heart when a lover found out about the curse and rejected them, or getting the approval of the head for marrying outside the family.

_That is the way it's always been._

The dead god's echoing voice gained a disturbing quality as recollections of, "You can't blame Ekhuze for hitting his own son, it's the curse," or "Ekhuze can't help it, he's insane" popped into Shehure's mind. Why MUST they resign themselves to such behavior? Surely they could seek a better life than that?

Spiting his memories of the wire cage, pity flooded Shehure. The late god, who couldn't live to his 25th birthday. Unable to experience two solid weeks of good health. No mother or father to love and comfort him, forget his "wife" and two sons, both of who had obviously feared and hated him. A man who never had the chance to play with other children in the sunlight, to roll around in the mud, instead imprisoned in the darkness of his own mind and the sticky, tangled cobwebs of the curse. Asheno would go through the same insidious process, rotting from the inside out. Maybe Shehure should try to be friends with the new god…although he would probably turn out just like Ekhuze in the end.

The thought of imprisonment reminded Shehure of the cat. The cat, traditionally doomed to a life of internment within the same house for most of his or her natural life, allowed contact only through the bars of the house's windows. Even the servants shunned the cat's house. This current cat was unusual—he had been allowed to marry when he was young, presumably by a more benevolent head than Ekhuze. Shehure had never seen the cat, although he had heard the whisperings about the cat's true form. A monster. The cat had a grandson seven years older than Shehure, named Khazuma. The dog admired Khazuma greatly—he knew about the family curse, yet continued to treat the Dzuni like human beings. He'd even tried to help Shehure learn basic martial arts concepts. Khazuma hadn't been around lately; he was too busy training to become a martial arts master. Admiring the silhouette of Old Blood against the setting sun, Shehure idly wondered if Khazuma knew the cat at all.

Shehure did not have a chance to find out until immediately after Lhadoman's birth, three years after Ekhuze died. By an odd coincidence, Shehure discovered the now-seventeen-year-old Khazuma seated upon a crumbling stone bench built into a garden wall across from Old Blood. Khazuma had developed the muscular physique of the martial artist, but his face retained minute traces of baby fat on the cheeks and his hair still shone with the same ginger tint. Shehure heard Khazuma sigh despondently. Of course, his grandfather had just died. Perhaps Khazuma had been close to the old cat?

"My condolences for your grandfather's death, Khazuma," The dog approached the older teenager from behind.

"Oh! Shehure," Khazuma, startled, then smiled. "Haven't seen you in a long time." The smile lacked some of the warmth Shehure remembered.

"Were you close to him?"

"Who? Oh, my grandfather the cat." Khazuma smiled bitterly and said no more. Shehure observed his face carefully. Maybe the teenager felt guilty?

"Are you going to high school now?" asked the dog, to change the topic.

"Hmm…no. I'm being tutored at home so I can devote more time to martial arts." At the mention of martial arts, Khazuma brightened a little. "In a year or two, I hope establish my own teaching center."

"You can teach all the Dzuni! You're an excellent teacher. The only moves I remember are the ones you taught me," said Shehure, demonstrating a few punches and kicks. "See?"

Khazuma laughed. "Indeed, but you're very rusty."

"I never was very good. The art of writing is the road for me." Shehure laughed as well.

"I'm glad, writing will be a good way for you to relieve yourself," Khazuma nodded his head seriously. Shehure's smile faded, as the two returned to their own inner thoughts.

"Hure! Where are you?" Ahame's voice yelled, piercing the silence.

"You'd best go, I'll be back to pay my respects to the family soon," said Khazuma.

As Shehure ran towards the house, he heard Khazuma say quietly to himself, "He'll suffer so much."

Who will suffer so much? Curiosity consumed Shehure, but he thought better of pressing Khazuma.

"I've been looking for you for ages!" Ahame scolded as Shehure came within sight of the spacious back porch.

"Oh, Ahame, you've only been looking for ten minutes," scoffed Shehure, flipping a hand.

"True, true, but I don't want to miss any of the wonderful tea because of you," sang Ahame, poking Shehure in the nose.

"What idiocy are you babbling now, Ahame?" Hathori walked onto the porch, frowning.

In the light teasing that ensued, Shehure momentarily set aside his plans to befriend Asheno and begin looking for an antidote for the curse.


	22. Chapter 24

Another one...no FB character cameos...but they'll show up again soon!

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 24**

"Very little of Hoth's actual history can be salvaged from the period known as the 'Realm of the Wind.'"

"Tell me something I don't already know," muttered Hotohori, rolling her eyes at the open book. Nevertheless, she kept reading. This out-of-the way library near Mhagenu School was the last one on her list. Hotohori had spent her first week after graduation combing through libraries and bookstores in Lhasa. Asheno did attempt to keep her at the compound once or twice, but threat of severe third-degree burns warded him off very effectively.

Her previous attempts to discover the cause of the curse by reading books about the Shoma family had met with little success; naturally the family kept a tight grip on what was published about them. Books on the Hothan calendar offered nothing noteworthy besides what they'd already been taught in school. Same for the Dzuni legends: nothing that deviated from the educational curriculum.

In all fairness, Hotohori had stumbled on Thiri Library only by accident. On her way back to the estate from her latest failed attempt at finding new clues, she walked, sifting through her options.

"Oh!" exclaimed a diminutive old woman as Hotohori collided into her, knocking the woman's books out of her arms.

"Please forgive me," Hotohori apologized, bending over to pick up the books, "I was—" She stopped as she took in the fine leatherbound covers, the delicately painted trims and the golden lettering on the books.

"Thank ye, dearie," the woman inclined her head, taking the books from Hotohori's hands. Noticing Hotohori's reverent look towards the books, she smiled and said, "I say, are ye inna rush, dearie? An ould woman li' me don' get much attention inna big city li' Lhasa."

"Um, of course, I'm not in any hurry," Hotohori replied.

"Come in!"

The sweet smell of venerable books filled the interior of the crammed library. "I don' worry me head over customers an' money or such, I just li' bein' wi' me books," explained the woman, huffing as she gently laid the massive books on an old escritoire by the dusty window. She gestured proudly to the books. "Books li' these, you canna just fin' them anywhere in Lhasa. Th' way ye looked at them, I could tell ye were a true book lover."

"Books were my best friend when I was younger," Hotohori whispered, letting the homey atmosphere draw her in. The ragged, plush armchairs invited her to settle back with a book and perhaps some cocoa. "Do you run a bookshop here?"

"No, ye migh' say this is a library," the woman chuckled. "I couldna bear to part wi' me books for good. Tha's easy enough, since no one here's interested in ould legends."

"Did you say legends?"

"Aye, legends. Folks in th' city, they don' give a thought t' th' ould stories. No li' where I hail from…a small mountain town in the south, ye wouldna know it, dearie…Come to think of it, dearie, when I firs' saw ye, ye reminded me of an ould print I have around here somewhere. What's ye name?"

"Zhuruth Hotohori."

"Aye, the dragon! Of course!" exclaimed the woman.

"The dragon? What about the dragon?"

"Ye eyes are th' same color as th' dragon's in this print. I'll find it for ye."

"Uh…I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Ye can call me Hina." The wrinkles multiplied as she beamed. A conspiratorial gleam appeared in her eye as she bent her head towards Hotohori. "Ye've been searchin' for somethin' unusual haven' ye?"

"Well…" A painting of a dragon with the same eyes. She would take the plunge. "I've been trying to find legends about the Dzuni-"

"Aha!" The old woman brightened even more, if possible. "Would ye be wantin' th' borin' version, that everyone in Hoth knows, or th' interestin' version?"

"The interesting version? What's that?"

"Me late husband Riha, may he rest in peace, had a passion about th' Realm of Wind, a passion mind ye. He always though' it a crime no one bothered to save the less-known legends." She briskly trotted through a door partially blocked by a bookshelf. Hotohori followed with some difficulty. "It was his life's work to collect th' ould books and paintin's. Th' best of 'em come from th' south. Ye go any further north than Hareth, good luck findin' anythin' the gov'ment hasna touched."

The "gov'ment," Hotohori guessed, had been strongly influenced by the powerful Shoma family. It made sense—the Shomas would want to erase all traces of the family curse.

"Ye are a Shoma, are ye no'?" Hina asked confidentially, her hand resting on an elaborately carved door handle. Hotohori could only stare at her, unsure how to handle the explosive question.

"Aye." A bony hand rested comfortingly on Hotohori's shoulder. "Don' worry, ye are safe wi' me. So I suppose th' curse is still afflictin' ye an' others in th' family?"

"Y…well, no…it's different," stammered Hotohori, doubtful of how much she could trust Hina.

The shining black eyes regarded Hotohori compassionately. "It's all righ', dearie. Tha's why I've kept th' shop out of th' way, so it would still be here if a Shoma needed help again."

Hotohori could only keep gaping.

"Close t' forty year ago, me husband was close friends wi' one of th' Shoma. It were righ' after we moved t' Lhasa. Riha'd just started his work on collectin' th' stories. Anyway, he met a man name Shoma Khazuma. Khazuma whacked th' glory out of Riha in a good-natured pickup martial arts match." Hina chuckled softly at the memory. "Black eye didna leave for weeks. Riha an' Khazuma, they took a likin' to each other from th' start.

"Sooner or later, Riha told Khazuma about his project. I remember verra well, I was servin' tea when Riha says, 'My particular hobby is finding legends about th' Dzuni—'Riha always talked better than I did, he did—'Th' bedtime stories mothers tell their children, those are th' tame stories. I've found some books that suggest th' existence of much juicier tales. One even contains a—what was the word he used, oh, yes—a passage telling how the Dzuni curse might be broken.'

"I remember, Khazuma wen' queer at that. But when Riha started talking abou' his collectin', there were no stoppin' him. He kept talkin' an' Khazuma got whiter in th' face. Riha says, 'Imagine! A Dzuni curse! What an amazing developmen' for Hothan mythology! Now, I haven' found anything else abou' this curse yet or how it began.' I near though' Khazuma would faint by now. Riha finally noticed somethin' was wrong wi' th' man.

"'Khazuma, are ye all righ'?' he asks. Khazuma just says, real tense, "It's no' mythology. The curse isna a myth.'" An' th' story starts comin' out, abou' how his foster son is one of th' cursed Dzuni, an' how Khazuma had spent all these years lookin' for a cure wi' no luck. Of course, Riha an' me offered righ' there an' then t' show him the book wi' th' cure. Khazuma thanked us, an' warned Riha t' keep his collection a secret because th' family head migh' destroy it if he found out.

"Let's see, now, abou' a year went by before we heard from Khazuma again. All he told us was that the cure had worked. Oh, he was so happy. 'Me boy can finally hug th' woman he loves,' he said t' us. It were no' until then I saw how painful the curse had been." Hina's eyes glistened with tears. Her grip on the door handle tightened.

"We went our separate ways, talked every so often. Then Riha began to find certain books…" She took a deep breath. "But it were the paintin' tha' made us worry. It didna fit wi' the curse Khazuma told us abou', but it were similar enough. Riha an' me kept quiet, didna tell Khazuma, hopin' our worries were nothin'." The door yielded, shrieking loudly.

The dryness of the room parched Hotohori's throat, and the dimness made her vision swim for a minute as her eyes adjusted. An amber light flickered, an old-fashioned lamp lit by Hina, illuminating the cracked wall in front of Hotohori. The girl gasped as she beheld the framed parchment, a rectangular piece almost as large as the bay window in Asheno's parlor.

The candlelight enhanced the vivid red strokes forming the graceful curves of the dragon's body. The dragon stood, looking directly at Hotohori, in front of a twisted tree on fire. The long-forgotten artist had skillfully captured a majestic and intelligent expression, one of great dignity, in the jade-green eyes. The bottom portion had been blocked off from the rest; its black paint contrasted with the gentle orangish-brown background of the painting. In carefully elongated letters, the words "Hori Hot" glittered golden. Next to the words was a simple, swishy contour of a dragon in flight.

"That's what I turned into?" Hotohori whispered, in awe. It was a miracle she hadn't burned the entire estate down.

"So the curse isna over, then," sighed Hina. "Riha found that paintin' four years ago, righ' before he died. There are others, in th' south. I have loyal friends—who won' make a peep, don' you worry, I didna tell them why I wanted th' paintin's—back in th' south, workin' on findin' an' preservin' th' rest. I have only one other here. Haven' framed it yet." Hina pulled a large, thin wooden drawer out of the wall at the back of the dusty room. A plastic cover shielded the snarling, frothing wolf from the elements. Hotohori recognized Faran-Zhuku, in all his savagery. The fangs shone a brilliantine white, the red eyes marking the viewer as the next victim. Only a faint, shifting dark blue outline differentiated the wolf from the completely black background. Unlike the dragon, whose name had been written in beautiful calligraphy, the words "Zhuku Hetu" had been hurriedly scratched, as though the painter were fearful of the wolf leaping off the paper any moment and crushing his throat. Three slashes served as the ghost wolf's insignia.

"Because the Dark Age destroyed most of the records…" Inwardly groaning, Hotohori continued the search for the passages she needed.

The next week, Hotohori had finally managed to return to Hina's little hole in the corner of Mhagenu. Her knees had started shaking uncontrollably, causing Hina to shepherd her out of the room and push her into one of the creaky armchairs.

"There now, I imagine that were a bit much," Hina glanced worriedly at the stunned girl.

The antiquity of the paintings—Hina said Riha estimated their age to be about 800 years old—made Hotohori realize that the Dzuni were rooted much more deeply in Hothan history than anybody ever knew. Except maybe for Haku.

The image of the dragon and wolf remained in the forefront of Hotohori's mind as she debated whether to tell the other Dzuni of her discovery. Eventually she decided against it for the short term, because the more people that knew about it, the more likely Asheno would find out. And he'd likely destroy the shop. She hated keeping such an important secret, but only until she learned more.

Hotohori sipped the hot tea, turning the page. A pile of books sat on the escritoire surface next to the open one.

"I wish Riha had at least marked the pages," mentally grumbled Hotohori. For a scholar, he had been a horrible notetaker. No records, no pieces of paper, nothing. "He kept it all in his mind," explained Hina proudly. Hotohori's eyes lazily drifted to the footnote at the bottom of the page.

"…man in the town of Mharhan told the author he once saw a

letter, written two hundred years ago, discussing the existence

of a second cycle of Dzuni in the celestial calendar, thus opening

the possibility of the former existence of a 26-Dzuni calendar,

not just thirteen…"

Twenty-six Dzuni?

In another book, far more ancient than the first:

"The bards used to sing of a sacred creature who lived on Thika

Mountain, and tended the flame trees. The songs praise this

unknown being as the protector of Hoth and the leader of the

Dzuni."

Later in the same book:

"It is quite clear to this humble author that, contrary to our great

government's assertions, worship of multiple gods was once

widespread in Hoth. In the southern regions, the villagers believe

that their personalities are determined by the Dzuni they are born

under, and they rely heavily on their respective Dzunis for

heavenly guidance. This is a practice whose shadows persist

throughout Hoth, despite…"

Shrill ringing snapped Hotohori's concentration. She opened her cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Tori, you'd better get back here, wherever you are." Hatsuharu sounded concerned. "Asheno's wondering what happened to you."

"Thanks, be there in a few minutes." Damn, thought Hotohori, just as she found some interesting pages.

"Hina, I need to go," she called.

"Oh, all righ', dearie. I'll keep lookin' for th' book abou' the cure."

"Thank you so much, I'll try to come back soon." The door slammed behind Hotohori as she rushed out.


	23. Chapter 25

Lhadoman's mother bears no relation to Kisa from FB.

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 25**

_Asheno_

That was the way it used to be. They came to me so easily, like birds have always done. The Dzuni instinctively knew to always return to me, their god. But no, not this generation. They try to avoid me. Me! Nothing went right with them. They didn't transform when hugged by members of the opposite sex. Haku and the dragon girl transformed on random occasions. Hatsuharu fights against me, and that idiot boar is starting to follow his lead.

I was supposed to get my Dzuni back. So I could die like I was always supposed to. My health stays the same, neither improving nor disintegrating. I, who is supposed to suffer and give his life as a sacrifice for the Dzuni!

All the trouble to bring back the curse, to allow me to die as I was fated to, to have my ultimate revenge on him…him, the one who broke the curse.

The sparrow chirped cheerily on my finger. How dare it sing happily. The delicate bones crunched as I closed my fist, squeezing the life out of the bird.

Yes…at least I had located the other Dzuni. Soon they would all be back, in their proper home. Yes, the situation merely called for extra patience. They would go to school, see how abnormal they were, be ostracized and teased by the rest of the student body, and realize they all belonged with me. Me, the only one who could save them.

But Hathori probably knew these children existed. Damn him…I can't order him to erase his own memory. The only thing to do is never let him into the house and keep that Rhena woman close by. Hathori helped him break the curse. I know it.

No matter. The time would come when my former Dzuni would watch the new generation submit to me. Heh heh, if Hathori had told the others about the children, they had most likely spent these past years in torment over the possibility of the curse returning. Yes, I like that. Especially him, who worked behind my back, poisoning the others against me, broke the curse and made me live…I would make sure he saw me breaking the spirit of his Dzuni successor.

Ah, Asheno, priorities, priorities. Now about getting the cat back in Lhasa. Time to start acquainting the cat with his fate as the outcast of the Dzuni.

A rhythmic scratching attracted Haku's attention, as he staggered out of his room, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled. In the last two weeks, undisturbed sleeps were few and far in between, with the overload in visions Haku had been subjected to. His nap had been blessedly dreamless. His ears traced the scratching to Lhurone's room. The placid teenager sat on his bed, finally fully recovered from his injuries. The bed was actually worthless, since Lhurone could now not sleep unless in a standing position. A growing pile of wood shavings fell between his legs as the knife flicked back and forth over the wood.

"Hello, Haku," Lhurone looked up into Haku's questioning eyes. "I suddenly felt the impulse to carve a random piece of wood. Apparently my Dzuni possesses amazing woodworking skills when it decides to."

"I still can't get used to your new sophisticated vocabulary," Haku muttered as he took the wooden piece from Lhurone. "I remember when you used 'fuck' every other word." They laughed.

"My Dzuni is very articulate as well, it would seem," shrugged Lhurone.

"Lhurone, do you realize what you've made?" As he turned the carving over in his hand, Haku's eyes widened in amazement.

"Hmm? I suppose I didn't pay close attention. It just happened."

"This is a flute."

"Oh, Haku, look at those rumpled clothes! Did you spend the night in a brothel?" Khosure's teasing voice sang from down the hallway. "Perhaps a few lovely ladies were entertaining you?"

"Shut up. Lhurone made a flute."

"Lhurone, I always thought you had an artist's soul tragically trapped inside of you," Khosure exclaimed as he stood on his tiptoes to peek over Haku's shoulder. "Ooooh…"

The flute still had a few knots to be carved out, but the surface was already smooth. A horse's arched head formed one end of the flute, with its open mouth serving as the hole. The mouthpiece end flared to counterbalance the weight of the horse's head. The instrument sat well in the hand.

"What's that on the sides?" Khosure grabbed the flute. "Wings?" The etchings of feathers were clearly visible among the holes and sides. The mane melted into the carved lines.

"Can you play it?' Lhurone took the flute and put the mouthpiece to his lips. A peaceful low melody emerged and caressed Khosure and Haku lovingly. Worries simply floated away on the notes, rinsing out all negative feelings, encasing the teenagers in a soft, fluffy warmth.

"Well, that was a surprise." The comment by Lhurone interrupted the blissful spell grasping the other two. "I've never played an instrument before."

Khosure blinked his eyes. Rationality returned to Haku.

"Wow, what kind of Dzuni are you? Do you know yet, Haku?" asked Khosure in a still-spellbound voice.

"Some kind of horse…" said Haku, "but like the rest of us, your Dzuni is going to be completely different from what Asheno expects, Lhurone." He had yet to see the actual horse in his visions, and didn't have a good idea of what the horse had been like. A rumbling diverted his thoughts.

"I got to eat something."

"Yes, go, you look like you were the one in a gang thingamajingy," Lhurone said, waving the flute towards the door.

Continuing to feel muddled, Haku stumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, dizziness overcame him and he veered to the left, stopping on the back porch. As he refocused, he found himself looking at the fountain. But wait, Hotohori had left it in smoking, blackened ruins…did it get rebuilt already?

"What is that smell? Is it the monster?" The dreaded voice. Asheno's voice as a young child. It had come out of Haku! Haku looked down and saw the creature he'd seen at the cat's birth, except it was now slightly larger. A bracelet with alternating crimson and ivory white beads lay nearby. Oh, not another vision. And from Asheon's perspective, too!

Asheno turned to Shehure, now fourteen. The elder boy wore a polo shirt and khakis, a rare occasion for the hekasho lover. Haku heard himself demand in Asheno's voice, "Why is he here?"

Shehure smiled reassuringly. "Lhadoman is only here to pay you his respects."

"Well, I don't want to see him anymore. He doesn't belong here!"

A whine escaped Lhadoman, looking confusedly at Shehure and Asheno. Shehure, arms crossed, regarded the pathetic creature seriously. Haku discerned a look of pity flickering across Shehure's face.

"Go on in, Asheno. I'll deal with him."

Asheno ran back into the house as Shehure approached Lhadoman, saying, "There, it's all right. I'll just wait here until you turn human again, ok? Then I'll take you back to your mother."

His mother was constantly telling him she loved him.

"I love you, Lhadoman," she'd say, pulling up his sleeve to make sure the bracelet was still there. Whenever the bracelet slipped off and Lhadoman reverted to his true form, his mother would tear through the house, upending everything in a desperate search, not looking at him until she recovered the bracelet.

Then there were the times Lhadoman asked her why she never took him outside. Her response usually took the form of: "You're so cute I don't want anybody else to see you." He knew it was a lie. The five-year-old spent most of his time sitting in his room, wondering what lay beyond the curtain that blocked his view of the outside world. He'd become quite a good reader—Shehure often gave him a big bag full of books when his mother took him for a rare visit to the main house. Lhadoman kept the books hidden under a loose floorboard he'd discovered. He didn't think Mama would approve of his reading books.

The only other activities he had were having silent meals with his mother, and listening to his father scream at her. His father was a short, ugly man, and he drank a lot.

"Out drinking again, bum?" The one time Lhadoman saw both parents together, his mother became unusually animated. "When are you going to get a real job, you worthless man?" She followed him into the TV room. "When I married you, I thought you were…"

"Shut up, bitch!"

"Who are you to tell me to shut up?"

"You're the one who had the little monster, Khisa!" She stormed out of the room, face white, and stopped when she saw Lhadoman, gripping his cold cup of juice.

"Go to your room, Lhadoman." Khisa's shoulders sagged and she walked to the sink, picking up dishes to rinse out. The boy lost no time in obeying her.

Maybe Khisa had once been pretty, but now Lhadoman saw the sharp cheekbones, the dark shadows under her unfeeling eyes, and how her clothes hung on her frame loosely. The strained smile whenever Lhadoman talked to her. The doctor, an elderly man with thick glasses, often tried to check on Khisa, but she brushed him off with an "I'm fine, doctor, thank you." She stopped seeing her friends a long time ago.

One day Lhadoman sat in the sunlight (he enjoyed bathing in its warmth), reading a fantastical tale about a brave prince rescuing a princess from the clutches of an evil witch. The witch rode her giant black panther through the clouds in pursuit of the prince and princess, getting closer, closer, closer…CRACK! The loud explosion ricocheted for a split second. Lhadoman flipped onto all fours, hair on end. He relaxed as the house remained silent, but his nose caught an unfamiliar, tangy smell.

Cautiously, he edged the door open, and seeing no one, made his way to the stairs. If Mama found out he'd left the room without permission, she'd be angry. Remembering to dodge the creaky step, Lhadoman peeked around the banister to the kitchen door, where the sunlight bounced off a metallic object. The black, glistening object looked a little like the space weapons Lhadoman read about in a picture book, but it was so small and only one color. He'd probably be able to hold it in his hand.

As he edged closer, a hand came into view, open as though stretching towards the shiny toy. Oh, it was his mother's hand…Lhadoman froze, his amber eyes reflecting the pooling blood from…he saw no more after he rushed back into his room, resolving to shut himself up until Mama woke up again and called him. He didn't move even when his father screamed.

"The poor woman, it's no wonder she committed suicide."

"Having to look after a child like that."

The whispering accompanied the speeches and its acidity and scornful pity undercut the mournful tone of the national song as it played while Khisa was lowered into her grave. Lhadoman didn't even hear any of the song, the whispering blocked all other sounds.

"The cat is so difficult to deal with."

"Such an unpleasant little thing. They always are."

"Yes, nothing like the rat."

"Oh, yes, the rat is a beautiful child."

The last comment, made by a trusted old house servant, induced Lhadoman to finally raise his head to his surroundings, looking for the rat boy. Shoma Huki stood at a second-story window in the main house, watching the proceedings. His fine hekasho couldn't hide the fact that he had a sickly body, all too obvious from his thin, pallid face. Asthma plagued Huki on a regular basis, and rarely did Asheno, fearing for his favorite's health, allow him outside of the main house. Like the cat, Huki knew little of the world outside his room. Whenever he met his father, Huki saw the same bitter, angry grimace that now graced the face of Lhadoman's father.

Huki frowned sadly as the coffin was slowly lowered into the family crypt, nonplussed by "The Flame Trees of Thika." It'd always reminded him of rainy days clearing up, only to be followed by a darkening of the clouds and more rain. It held a promise, a false promise of happiness and beauty which would never arrive. The cat made eye contact with Huki, and Huki gave him a solemn nod, trying to convey his sympathy.

"Huki is such an intelligent boy, and sweet, too."

"Too bad the cat couldn't be the sickly one instead."

"Well, he gave his mother enough trouble just by being the cat."

"If Khisa had had a normal child…"

So the rat was looking at him, smiling at him. Lhadoman stared at Huki. What a wimpy kid, sick all the time and skinny. Why did everybody love him so much? And everybody hated him, just because he was the cat, and blamed him for his mother's death…Lhadoman rewarded Huki's gesture with a ferocious glare, and ran from the circle of mourners into the garden.

His nimble feet flew over the paved walkway, past unseeing statues and wilting flowers long past their blooming days. A hint of the snow and ice to come lingered in the grayish tinges lining the leaves. Breathing hard, Lhadoman staggered to a stop in a part of the garden unknown to him. But the voraciously crawling branches and the swarthy plants, tangling with each other, brought comfort through their resemblance to Lhadoman's stormy emotions. Here were friends to listen to him, who wouldn't criticize him or point their fingers at him and whisper behind covert hands…

"It's not my fault!" he screamed, the dammed tears flooding forth. His fists banged against his thighs, and he bent over, sobbing.

"I didn't kill Mama! It's not my fault! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

"You're right, it's not your fault." The soothing male voice caused Lhadoman to hiccup, straightening in surprise.

"I didn't kill Mama," weakly repeated Lhadoman.

"No, you didn't kill your mother," affirmed Shoma Khazuma, five years older than when Haku saw him last. The young man was now a professional martial artist, and had recently opened his own teaching center in northern Lhasa, near the foot of the mountains. For a few moments he regarded the silently sobbing boy. Then Khazuma asked, "Lhadoman, do you know who I am?"

Distracted by the sudden question, Lhadoman ceased crying. Wiping a red eye with one fist, he said, "You're a martial artist, right? I've heard people at the main house talk about you."

"Yes, that's right." Khazuma smiled, then knelt down and placed a large hand on Lhadoman's bony shoulder. "I have a question for you. Would you like to live with me?"

"Live with you?" Lhadoman scanned Khazuma with new interest. The last few days under his father's wing had been horrible. His father kept wandering the house, muttering and taking deep gulps from a liquor bottle. The times Lhadoman dared approached him, his father flung vicious curses and attempted to smack the boy (only to miss because the liquor interfered with his coordination too much). By contrast, the man in front of Lhadoman was clean, young and very pleasant. A dark cloud crossed Lhadoman's mind.

"But I'm the cat." Nobody wanted anything to do with the cat, he could see that easily enough.

Khazuma only chuckled ruefully. "That's not a problem. You see, my grandfather was the cat before you were born. My grandfather was a very good and kind man. I'm only sorry I didn't know him better," he muttered, as a regretful afterthought.

"R-really?" Never had Lhadoman heard one positive sentence uttered about the cat before.

"I've spoken with Asheno and he gave me permission to take you home." Even though only eight years old, Asheno held complete sway over the Dzuni. "I think being near the mountains, in a high place with clean, fresh air, will do you a lot of good." Standing, he lifted Lhadoman and swung him up onto his shoulder.

"Eep!" yelped Lhadoman.

"It's about time you saw more of the world besides this compound," declared Khazuma, exiting the northwest corner. The world suddenly shed its tired, autumnal appearance and took on a gleam in Lhadoman's eyes. He would see mountains close up, meet new people, and for all too brief a time break free from his jail.


	24. Chapter 26

I think I forgot to mention earlier that I changed Kureno into Hatharu, and made him Hathori's younger brother. Khisa is Kisa. This is the chapter that contains the contradictory description of Asheno's bet with Lhadoman. Sorry for the confusion...

Disclaimer: FB isn't me, nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 26**

Family life continued undisturbed in the background, during and immediately after Khisa's funeral. The first frost of the autumn arrived, coating everything outdoors in an iridescent white blanketing of exquisite crystals.

Lhadoman now trained enthusiastically under Khazuma's tutelage, in the foothills. "Foothills" was really only a technical term for this area; the hills were so cragged and large that the locals referred to them as the "hidden mountains." The teaching center sat about ten miles away from the Golden Ridge, so called because of the rocks' blinding reflection of light from the ridge's east face at sunrise. The hidden mountains and groves of coniferous trees provided ample opportunity for Lhadoman to climb and explore.

The first walk through Lhasa on Khazuma's shoulder bewildered and frightened Lhadoman, as masses of strangers surrounded them and huge metal boxes with windows zipped by.

"That's a train," explained Khazuma. "In Lhasa, many people ride the trains to their jobs."

"T-train," repeated Lhadoman dutifully. He'd read about them, but had never actually seen one. The public trains were much plainer and smaller than the fancier trains used for travel between cities and through the dividing range. The metal box resolved itself into a definable object, and Lhadoman looked at it with a newfound clarity. Now this was part of real life, unlike his prison of a room lacking the vitality and nuances of a typical street in Lhasa. He could discern both light and shadow, happiness and unhappiness, and loudness and silence. Up until this moment Lhadoman had experienced only the negative ends of the spectrum.

If he wasn't training and weather permitting, Lhadoman basked in the sun, either on the side of the gentle rises surrounding the training center or on the roof. Besides reading, only the sun relaxed him and momentarily stilled his roiling interior. The roof became Lhadoman's main retreat, whenever he became upset or confused by his life. Even though he knew the cat was naturally nimble, Khazuma couldn't help but worry about the possibility of a broken neck when Lhadoman napped on the roof.

During the training sessions, Lhadoman proved himself an eager and talented student. His biggest flaw lay in his impatience.

"Argh!" growled Lhadoman, frustrated by his tenth unsuccessful attempt at a difficult kick. He yanked off his protective arm gear and wildly threw it at the wall.

"A good martial artist trains his spirit as well as his body," reprimanded Khazuma gently. "The best blows aren't struck out of sudden anger or any other wild emotion. We'll have to work on cooling that hot head of yours. First, pick up your arm gear and put it away properly, then sit still on the floor for ten minutes. If you're calmer when ten minutes are up, we'll continue training until lunch."

"Okay, idzo," mumbled the boy, shamefacedly gathering his abused arm gear. "Idzo" was an old-fashioned honorific for a martial arts teacher, and had gone out of use sixty years ago. One of Lhadoman's favorite books contained romantic legends about a chivalric traveling idzo, who'd fought off evil villains and mythical monsters. Khazuma, to Lhadoman's seven-year-old eyes, personified the Travelling Idzo in his kindness and his rescue of Lhadoman from a life of unabated misery. He'd even been able to persuade Asheno to let Lhadoman live with him, and as far as Lhadoman knew, Asheno didn't let the Dzuni leave the Shoma main estate. So, on the first night in Khazuma's teaching center, Lhadoman unhesitatingly called Khazuma "Idzo." The students and most other people used "Shoma-mharu," meaning "Master Martial Artist Shoma," the correct formal title for Khazuma. Upon hearing himself named "Idzo," Khazuma smiled and patted Lhadoman. The name had stuck ever since.

Back at the main house, ten-year-old Asheno sweated in his elegant bed, afflicted by one of his commonplace fevers. He'd become accustomed to illness at an even younger age, taking comfort in the fact that it was the fate of the Dzuni God. Some time ago, Shehure, who Asheno was particularly close to, asked him if he really wanted to die young. Asheno had cursorily replied, "Of course." Dying young meant he'd be relieved of his suffering sooner rather than later. Also, his ill health and future early death would keep his Dzuni close by. They were obliged to obey his wishes anyway, but his sickly constitution added extra weight to his prestige. That made it easier for Asheno to keep a tight grip on the Dzuni's affairs, or so he believed. He had not yet reached the point, as all his predecessors did, when he realized that the Dzuni carried on separate lives outside his small bedroom and the banquet hall, circumventing the God. The eldest Dzuni had already begun, Shehure being the most expert in the art of eluding Asheno's awareness.

"Is Hatharu home yet?" Asheno asked his nursemaid in a faint voice.

"No, it's still only lunchtime," the nurse replied coldly and manner-of-factly. Hatharu, the younger brother of Hathori, now attended an all-boys high school. In his free time he attended to Asheno's every want. The young god had sensed, but could not yet articulate, Hatharu's guilt over being happy at his father's death and the subsequent desire to atone by serving Asheno faithfully. Whenever he was home, Hatharu would arrange Asheno's pillows and blankets, much in the manner of a bird building its nest. At dinnertime, Asheno would watch, fascinated, as Hatharu took tiny, quick bites of his food. The animalistic tics of individual Dzunis amused Asheno. For example, Ahame's senses of smell and hearing were at their best when he flicked his tongue between his lips. And Khisa, the three-year-old tiger, always became lazy and sleepy after she ate, especially a big meal. Nharu the rabbit bounced visibly whenever he walked.

"Will I be well in time for the banquet?"

"You always are," said the nurse, cleaning the thermometer. Asheno didn't want to miss the banquet, the only time he saw all twelve Dzuni together. That horrid cat had no part in the Dzuni, therefore he didn't count.

Three days later, the time for the banquet arrived. Asheno sat in a cushioned chair, resplendent in the hekasho of the Dzuni God, in the great hall where all the Shomas gathered for the New Year party. The Dzuni banquet would not begin for another hour. Asheno impatiently scanned the room, observing the chatting groups of relatives. Huki, the rat, stood surrounded by distant relatives cooing over his lovely hekasho. The sight pleased Asheno greatly—he had personally chosen Huki's hekasho. Equally pleasing to Asheno was seeing Lhadoman looking angrily at Huki and his admirers. So Huki still rankled the cat, eh? A nefarious idea trickled into Asheno's mind.

"Bring Lhadoman to me," ordered Asheno to Hatharu.

Lhadoman approached suspiciously. The God hadn't spoken to him since that awful time he'd seen Lhadoman's true form three years ago. Why talk to him now?

"Good evening, Lhadoman," Asheno said in the most imperial tone he could command.

"Good evening," Lhadoman responded, mystified.

Asheno regarded Lhadoman from beneath lowered eyelids. "You are an outcast, as you know, and for excellent reasons."

"Yes, Asheno." The cat couldn't prevent his expression from twitching at the hated "o" word. The next question, however, left his jaw hanging open in surprise.

"Do you want to join the Dzuni?"

Lhadoman's mouth moved, as he searched for the answer.

"Well? I don't have all night," snapped Asheno.

"Yes! I want to be a real Dzuni!" blurted Lhadoman. Turning from his finicky and doting old aunt, Khazuma noticed Lhadoman in front of Asheno, and worried, began walking to them. It was not possible for the cat to have a good experience with the God, he knew.

Asheno bent his back and leaned closer to Lhadoman from his taller perch, until their heads were even. "If you can defeat Huki in a martial arts battle before you turn twenty," whispered Asheno, relishing each word, "you can join the Dzuni." Inwardly, he laughed at the hope in Lhadoman's eyes. "But you must tell no one about our little bet, not even Shoma-mharu," he added, after seeing the man approaching from the left. Asheno straightened up.

"Now go," he commanded, "I can't stand you any longer." He giggled. He knew that Huki was superior in martial arts, even though he'd only started training under Shoma-mharu last year at Asheno's behest. It would be fun, watching the cat grow more frustrated and angry in his pursuit of Huki.

"What is the point of all this?"

"The point of all what?" asked Hatsuharu, entering the annex kitchen where Haku alternately sighing and sipping tea. It was the same kitchen where the two first became aware of the ghost wolf's existence.

"All the visions I've been having. Faran-Zhuku insists it's necessary in order for me to fully understand the curse, but I don't see how knowing every detail about every cursed Dzuni…"

"Whoa, wait, you still haven't told me anything about your visions. What are you talking about?" Hatsuharu poured himself a cup of the now-cold tea.

"Faran-Zhuku…how do I explain…makes me watch the lives of our predecessors. At least, I believe they're our predecessors because Asheno is their head. The wolf hasn't even told me for sure." Haku rested his chin on one hand. "I'm exhausted—there are so many people to keep track of, and it's all so complicated, the family relationships, the curse and its nature. The stories jump back and forth in time, making things even more confusing. Faran-Zhuku just won't stop, and I'm not having a vision right now because he finally wore himself out."

The other Dzuni had learned to recognize the times when Haku became entrapped in a vision. Haku didn't disappear, but his eyes would focus on seemingly nonexistent objects and he reacted to events no one else could see. Usually he stayed stationary, like a spectator in his seat at a game. Even so, Hatsuharu and Hotohori had taken it upon themselves to gently lead Haku back to the privacy of his room, to prevent gossip from the servants and trouble with Asheno.

"Shit, I just want Faran-Zhuku to…oh, I don't know what I want anymore. He was right. I don't understand what the hell is going on in this family."

"Neither do I," said Hatsuharu. "But it sounds like the Dzuni problem is so deeply entrenched in the family that it's now impossible to comprehend the family without comprehending the curse first."

"Congratulations. Faran-Zhuku should've possessed you instead."

"Hey, don't get mad at me." The tension gradually subsided as the two sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Well…" ventured Hatsuharu, "which Dzuni have you been seeing?"

"I've seen more than half of them, but the visions mostly focus on the dog, cat, rat, snake and dragon. The snake and dragon are very similar to Tori and Kho, but the dog is different from me. The dog, Shehure, wants to find an antidote to the curse, and apparently there is one but the visions haven't gotten there yet. Shehure is very good at manipulation and deception, unlike me," smiled Haku ruefully, "but he has a good heart. He believes that the games he plays and the way he uses people are ultimately for the good of the family. Asheno was close to him."

"I wonder what happened."

"Ha, I daresay I'll find out soon enough."

"When you have these visions, do you actually become one of the people or just watch from a distance?"

"Nowadays Faran-Zhuku makes me inhabit the body of the main character. It's really hard, because nothing good ever happens to the Dzuni. The worst is when Asheno is the person I become."

"No!"

"Yes. In the most recent vision, he was only ten or eleven, but he was already insane."

"Really? Why?"

"Apparently that's the fate of Dzuni gods. Under the old curse, anyway. They go mad and die before their 25th birthdays, as a kind of sacrifice for the sake of the Dzuni."

"Whoever put the curse on the Shoma family must've had some grudge," muttered Hatsuharu. "That almost makes me feel sorry for Asheno. Of course, he's not dead…"

"I suppose I'll discover why soon."

"What about this curse that you and I and the others are under? Have you found out any more about it?"

"Oh, no. The visions are only ¼ of the way through the old curse, at the rate Faran-Zhuku's going."

"Tori just told me today—she was going to talk to you later—that she's found a tiny old library with manuscripts and art referring to the Dzuni curse. She wouldn't say much, except it's still hard to find meaningful information because censorship by our family was so rigorous and she's afraid of what Asheno would do if he found out. She also said there's a book with the old curse's antidote, but the library's owner hasn't found it yet."

"She's right, Asheno's tightening his leash on us even now." The teenagers weren't allowed to leave the estate grounds unless they had express permission from Asheno, during the vacation months. "Intriguing, but my sense is the antidote to the old curse won't do us any good."

Another pause followed.

"Have you seen the cow yet?" Hatsuharu asked, slightly hopeful.

"Not yet, but I'm sure I will soon."

And the cow will probably be tormented as much as his or her fellows were, realized Haku. Back then, Asheno enjoyed playing with his Dzuni as much as he did now, although he hadn't been as successful in the present. Haku shuddered mentally as he remembered Ekhuze and what Asheno had just done to poor Lhadoman in the latest vision. And what horrors had Ekhuze's predecessor committed? Instinctively, Haku knew he'd end up repressing the cow's torture stories.

_Faran-Zhuku_

Good. Haku is starting to pick out the cycle of despair caused by the curse. Working myself into the ground didn't go to waste. However, I have much more ground to cover, before the rest of the Dzuni arrive. I must finish the visions about the curse and its end.

Personally, I have to admit I'm glad Haku has borne the burden well so far. It heartens me that he will not collapse in the future—for what is yet to come is far worse than past visions.


	25. Chapter 27

For the sake of clarity, I refer to the original FB character as Haru, and the new one as Hatsuharu. Hiro and Rin make their first appearances as obnoxious little kids. The little tiger Khisa appears as well, but she isn't being obnoxious.

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, and nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 27**

As if on cue from Hatsuharu's question, the cow made his first appearance.

The scene began when Shehure's mother, wearing a worried expression, entered the family's living room.

"Shehure, have you found Haru yet? He might be lost again. It's so cold outside…and there's only a few hours before the Dzuni banquet. He'll get into trouble with Asheno if he doesn't appear."

"No, not yet, Mom. I'll check the backyard." The sixteen-year-old put on his heavy overcoat and stepped outside.

Haku was amused to learn that the cow was also named Hatsuharu ("Haru" for short), and that he had no sense of direction, either. Haru, the younger brother of Shehure, had been born when the dog was eleven. Shehure and Haru were the opposite of Ahame and Huki—they enjoyed a close relationship, and lived well with their parents.

Striding quickly to the expansive backyard, Shehure mulled over Haru's increasingly irritable behavior. The cow as a general rule was on the quite side, but Haru now answered questions only very reluctantly and never volunteered anything on his own. He seemed withdrawn and angry.

After vainly checking a gardening shed, it occurred to Shehure that Haru might've run across Asheno when he was in a sadistic mood. "That would make anyone depressed and moody," Shehure mumbled to himself. If Haru stayed out in this cold too long…the dog's ears were beginning to sting. Winter had arrived. The first snowstorms lurked behind the mountains. He lifted his nose to sniff the air. Ah, finally, a strong trace of Haru's scent. It led him to a small, gaudily decorated fountain, where his errant younger brother sat staring at the ground and shivering.

"Haru…" Shehure bent over the white mop of hair. Haru's hair would always remain impervious to taming by any hair-related implement. "Come on, let's go home. It's too cold, and Mom's worried about you." He took Haru's unresisting hand, but the boy continued to focus on the ground.

"Mom, Haru's back!" called Shehure when they finally reached their house. He quickly shut the door against the bitter cold as soon as he pulled Haru inside.

"Haru, thank goodness! Are you all right? Haru?" His mother knelt before him.

Without warning Haru lashed out at the comforting hand she raised. "Leave me alone!" he yelled. Because of the cow spirit, Haru's screams tended to have a queer resonating quality, like a moo.

"Haru!" Shehure tried to restrain him. Haru began flailing wildly.

"I'm not stupid! I'm not!" he yelled, fighting Shehure, who managed to grip the boy through the barrage of flying fists. "I may be the ox, but I'm not slow!" The fury subsided as suddenly as it began. Haru's muscles fell limp and he leaned into Shehure, crying. Their mother stood looking dumbfounded at the pair. That wintry afternoon, "Black Haru" was born.

The Dzuni banquet room loomed into view once again, its chairs empty.

**"You pay attention close now."**

The voice grated on Haku's nerves. The ghost had been silent while the visions dominated every aspect of Haku's life. The eerie emptiness of the banquet hall didn't help, either.

"Faran-Zhuku. I'd almost forgotten you were there," laughed Haku tersely.

**"Of course I here."**

"Don't you have any sense of humor?"

**"Hard to laugh when trapped by a curse for five hundred years. I get humor back later when Dzuni set right again. And you laugh because you were nervous, not joking."**

"Eh, can't argue against that."

**"Now shut up and listen. This year, this banquet you seeing now, all members of final cursed generation will be here. I point each out to you. Make sure you remember every one and keep straight."**

"I'll try."

**"Not try. You do it. You must."**

"All right, I'll memorize each and every one. Does that satisfy you?" snapped Haku.

**"Yes. And you have no right yell at me."**

"That little Haru in the last vision, what was wrong—"

**"You know in good time."**

"But this is a sudden change—"

**"You not complain before."**

"I did complain before!"

The ghost appeared on top of the blackwood table's gleaming surface. It had just been polished in anticipation of the upcoming feast. Faran-Zhuku's fur nearly matched the darkness of the wood. Teenager and wolf engaged in a staring contest for a pregnant five minutes.

At the end, Haku could've sworn the wolf smirked at him.

**"Those who try stop mountains from shifting are greatest fools."** Faran-Zhuku vanished in a hazy gray evaporation, his glowing red eyes remaining visible until the last wispy tendrils of smoke disappered. Very well, thought Haku. He understood the point the wolf made. The ancient proverb was the same one an older Shehure had been fond of saying in Haku's earlier visions. Shehure's philosophy of life operated by the message of that proverb: take life as it happens to you. No use in resisting what you couldn't change. Haku would just have to accept the wayward chronology of the visions and be patient until the end.

"Oh, fine," sighed Haku. The sound of the great doors opening brought his thinking back to the present situation. Asheno walked in, wearing the god's royal blue hekasho and still laboring to breathe under the suffocatingly heavy material. The Dzuni followed in procession behind him.

**"Assume you no need explanation for HIM," **sniffed Faran-Zhuku, meaning Asheno. **"That _dráscu_ nine year old here."** The obsolete word, obviously a curse, fascinated Haku. It sounded Zi Áldan.

I wonder where the wolf picked it up, idly wondered Haku. "What does 'dráscu' mean, Faran-Zhuku?"

**"You too young. Pay attention!" **yelled Faran-Zhuku, the extra volume causing a deep echo inside Haku's head. **"Look at rest of Dzuni now. Start with Shoma Huki. He six, like Lhadoman who banned from banquet."** The ivory-skinned youngster stood soullessly behind his seat, shivering detectably when Asheno touched his shoulder. He seemed every bit as miserable and pained as when Asheno locked him in the room, and when Mileshi Lhoru first made his acquaintance.

Faran-Zhuku continued in the order of seating, going clockwise from Asheno and Huki. **"Boy you just see, Shoma Hatsuharu the cow. He five."** Haku recognized the miniature version of his Hatsuharu's beautiful wine red hekasho. The cow glared sideways at Huki.

"Oh, not another one who hates Huki," moaned Haku. Merely cohabiting the same house as Asheno was difficult enough, without animosity from others.

Ahame sat in the next seat, resplendent in a bright red hekasho adorned with gold trimming that accented his eyes. His silver hair now reached below his shoulders.

**"Ahame, Shehure, and Hathori all sixteen and in high school." **Both Ahame and Hatharu were preoccupied with placating a fussy toddler new to the banquet. Due to the late hour, crankiness and sleepiness had overtaken the child. His light brown hair stuck out at all angles, and his hekasho hung loosely and lopsided. He had a wide face, with sharply rounded eyes matching his hair color.

"NO! Hiro sleep!" bawled the boy.

"Please be quiet," begged Hatharu in a frantic whisper, "just go to sleep."

"My, he's a precocious one," quipped Ahame.

**"And that Shoma Hiro. He the sheep, and is a year old. You know Hatharu the bird from before. And also Shoma Rhishu, monkey."** Rhishu perched nervously on his seat, almost directly across the table from Asheno. Strangely, Rhishu wore a rose pink robe made in the style for women. He even had a matching bow in his caramel brown hair.

"Why is Rhishu wearing women's clothes?" wondered Haku. Ten seemed a little early for intentional cross-dressing. Haku wasn't the only one who noticed the feminine outfit. A miniature, female version of Lhurone primly said to Rhishu, "You're supposed to wear boys' clothes."

"Rin!" reprimanded Hathori, leaning towards the insolent girl. "Apologize to Rhishu now."

"I'm sorry, Rhishu," recited Rin remorselessly. Hathori frowned and raised an eyebrow.

**"Shoma Rhinanon, called Rin, the horse. She four."**

"And difficult." Personally, Haku could tell Rin would be a hard case when she got older, especially if her predecessor was anything to judge by.

**"Well, yes."**

Hathori then turned his attention to yet another young child, this time Nharu the rabbit, whom Haku remembered from the early visions. Nharu, an energetic five-year-old, still behaved as though he had a spring tightly wound inside his body. He was the only truly cheery individual at the gathering, joyfully bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Nharu, sit still when Asheno begins speaking," reminded Hathori.

"Oukay, "Arei!" Nharu responded jubilantly, his Gogothan accent rendering his speech nearly unintelligible to Haku's ears.

Shehure was not spared the fate of babysitting younger Dzuni. Between him and Nharu sat a girl not much older than Hiro. Her hair was yellowish-orange, with darker streaks interspersed throughout.

**"Shoma Khisa, nothing to do with mother Lhadoman, two year. The tiger."** Khisa, in a deep sleep, kept threatening to slide out of her too-spacious chair. In an effort to make her stationary, Shehure had tied the loose ends of her robe's belt to her chair's arms.

**"Last, Khagura the pig, eight." **Khagura sat next to Asheno, noticeably tense. Really, she couldn't be blamed for not wanting to sit next to the increasingly insane family head.

Asheno finally rose to deliver the tired ceremonial opening speech, and the noise level quickly subsided to a respectful silence. Even Hiro stopped wailing momentarily.

"I welcome you, the Dzuni, to the annual New Year's feast. Happily, all thirteen of us are present." Possibly this would be the only time Haku would actually hear Asheno speak two rational sentences together. "This year marks the sheep's first Dzuni banquet. May the sheep flourish, and let us honor the memory of Mihoshi, whom Hiro succeeded, who passed away immediately after the past banquet." Mihoshi, the one who had beseeched Shehure to find a cure for the curse at Lhadoman's birth.

**"Haku, keep track of these Dzuni and remember relative age."**

"Let us eat, and may we have a fortuitous New Year," concluded Asheno, seating himself gratefully.

**"After this I go back to time of Lhoru. When she live in Shehure's house, you recall?"**

"Yes," said Haku, then adding under his breath, "miraculously."

**"Stop that. You know you capable. I going to finish telling you how old curse get broken."**

"I presume you're going to tell the tale in just as roundabout a way as you've been doing up to now?"

**"Don't be snotty with me, boy. Like I say before it is very important you know everything."**

"All right." Once again, Haku acquiesced.

**"I warn you now. When I start I not going to stop until when old curse end. It will be hard."**

"It's always been hard."

**"It get worse from here."**

With that ominous pronouncement, the banquet hall dissolved into blackness before Haku's eyes.


	26. Chapter 28

Hi! Thanks for the reviews! Sorry I haven't updated for a while—work's kept me busy. We're still in the flashbacks here. Shehure's editor makes her cameo here—she hasn't changed much.

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize doesn't belong to me either.

**Chapter 28**

The next round of visions began with a departure from the Dzuni. It was still warm, the "good half" of autumn as Hothans said. The "bad half" would follow shortly thereafter, serving as a rude awakening to winter's imminent arrival. During the "good half," Hothans traditionally initiated a flurry of outdoor activities, a desperate attempt to store the memories of sun, warmth and green grass before the onslaught of wind, ice, and treacherous snowdrifts.

The two teenage girls, sitting with Lhoru on a worn red blanket spread on the side of a grassy knoll, were no exception. The one with long blonde hair lay stretched full length on the ground, having tied up her school blouse to get sun on her stomach. After a moment of thinking, Haku recognized the girls as Zhula and Hanadzima, Lhoru's two best friends. He'd not seen either since the visions of Lhoru's mother.

"Let's see," he mused, "what was the vision I had before that? Oh, yeah, when Nharu watched Hathori erase his mother's memory. But that event happened pretty far back in the past. I think it was just for personal background…" By this juncture, Haku had divided the visions into two categories: character development and plot. Ordering the visions enabled him to fix them in relative position and chronology in his mind; otherwise he only got headaches from being confused. It wasn't a foolproof method. The visions often didn't fit into one category neatly. However, Haku could safely deduce that the most recent set fell into character development, since they provided in-depth looks at the shadows lurking in each cursed Dzuni's psyche. Presumably, Faran-Zhuku would commence with "plot" visions, to reveal the breaking of the old curse.

"Too bad the weather's going to get so freakin' shitty soon," remarked Zhula, turning her face to the sun.

"You really are a summer person, Zhula," murmured Hanadzima, dressed in an all-black dress. "Gogotha would suit you better. Living in the jungle, sweating all day and batting off enormous mosquitoes."

"And southern Hoth would suit you perfectly, Hana," Zhula threw back. "How can you wear all black on a sunny day like this?"

A demure smile played about Hanadzima's mouth. "Well, after all, I do have a…reputation to maintain."

"I made some cookies!" Lhoru unknotted a tan plastic bag. "Our favorites!"

"Oh, Lhoru, you shouldn't have," mumbled Zhula, already chomping on a chocolate cookie.

"Mmm. Sugar cookies." Hana took a well-mannered bite. "With extra sugar."

"Umm…" hesitated Lhoru.

"Yeah?" Crumbs sprayed from Zhula's mouth.

"How uncouth," noted Hanadzima.

"There's something I need to tell you." Lhoru squirmed nervously. "Please forgive me for not telling you earlier, but I needed to get permission first."

"What? What? 'Permission?'" Zhula snapped into a sitting position, immediately concerned. Hanadzima stopped eating her cookie and rested it in her lap.

"Tell me, your grandfather's treating you well, isn't he?" Zhula still thought Lhoru was living with her grandfather. "Are one of Huki's fangirls bothering you? If they are, just tell me who and I'll deal with them!"

"I could always zap them, Lhoru," Hanadzima said in utter seriousness.

"Oh, no, it's not that," denied Lhoru emphatically. "I'm now living with Shoma Huki, Shoma Lhadoman, and their guardian."

Zhula's mouth dropped open, whereas Hanadzima's eyes merely widened.

Lhoru babbled on. "You s-see,..I was living in a tent because my aunt's family came to live with my grandfather, and the house was getting remodeled, and my grandfather asked me if I could stay somewhere else…and I couldn't burden the two of you, Zhula, you live in a small apartment, and you live with four other people, Hana…So with my money I bought a tent and set it up in a forest, but I didn't know it belonged to the Shomas, and one day I met Huki and Shehure, that's his guardian. That same night I got sick and they helped me, but then my tent was buried in a mudslide. They agreed to take me in in exchange for my housework. They are very kind people, really, I don't know what I can do to pay them back, I'm sorry, I hope you aren't angry, but it was sensitive and I had to ask Shehure…" The words trailed off as the last ounce of air was squeezed out of Lhoru's lungs.

Hanadzima merely replied, "I see."

Zhula nodded her head. "I wondered why you were spending so much time with Huki and Orange-Head. Now I know."

"Of course, Lhoru," spoke Hanadzima, "you do realize this means we'll have to come to the Shoma house to make sure it is an appropriate living environment for you."

"Yes!" seconded Zhula. "Let's go over there tonight." It was the weekend.

"Let's wait," Hanadzima shook her head. "If we go now, they might not have enough sweet things prepared. We shall come tomorrow. Is that all right, Lhoru?"

"Oh, yes!" Lhoru beamed, relieved her friends weren't angry. "I'll tell you how to get there."

The next afternoon, Lhoru stood between Zhula and Hanadzima, and the three male Shomas. Zhula trained a fierce look upon all three, while Hanadzima regarded them with a cool and steady gaze. Huki smiled cautiously, and Lhadoman appeared on guard. Only Shehure seemed genuinely happy to meet the girls.

Oblivious to the tension sparkling in the air, Lhoru introduced her friends. "This is Kirisun Zhula and Shatha Hanadzima. Hana and Zhula, this is Shoma Shehure, the owner of the house. Lhadoman and Huki you know from school."

"Charmed. It's so good to have more young blood here." Shehure only bowed slightly as befit his status as the elder of the group.

"Shehure," hissed Huki warningly. He would have to keep an eye on the lecher while these girls were here. Initially, Shehure seemed nervous when Lhadoman told him that Lhoru's best friends were an ex-gangster and a witch. "But of course he'd get over his fears if it meant seeing more high school girls," thought Huki.

Meanwhile, Hanadzima was busy taking stock of the men's vibes. When she first met Lhadoman and Huki at school, they had immediately aroused her curiosity. Normal human vibes contained nuances of everyday thoughts and emotions—the next meal, homework, bills, love, fear, anger. A foreign element pervaded the vibes of Huki and Lhadoman, as though they weren't entirely human. The presence of the wild was so strong that Hanadzima could almost pick up a scent of sun-warmed fur and a fresh outdoor fragrance from Lhadoman. While probing Shehure's vibes, an image of a dark, thick forest at midnight, the ominous atmosphere heightened by the howling of a single wolf. When she looked at Huki, she seemed to hear the skittering of thousands of tiny claws, in secret, unseen niches.

Huki particularly worried Hanadzima. It was normal for everybody to have a certain amount of darkness and heaviness in their vibes. Huki had a great deal more than average. So did Lhadoman and Shehure for that matter. But Hanadzima felt a closer affinity to Huki, as someone she could sympathize with, albeit only on a mysteriously animalistic level. No one made her feel that way before.

Most oddly, however, she sensed vibes from Lhadoman's red-and-white bead bracelet. She'd not noticed it before, at school. Never had an inanimate (or perhaps not) object given off anything to Hanadzima. Each bead possessed its own voice, furiously bashing against the shells that imprisoned them, desperately screaming for help. One voice drowned out the rest in its raging, incoherent, and deathly timbre. It reminded her of tormented spirits being whirled away effortlessly on the stream of the haríthe, or burning in slow agony in a fire…

"Hana, are you all right?" Blinking, Hanadzima realized that she'd been staring at the men, and Lhoru was shaking her shoulder.

"How many beads are on that bracelet, Lhadoman?" abruptly asked Hana.

"Ah…14 beads."

"Thank you."

Weirdo, what the hell was that, wondered Lhadoman.

I hope she doesn't figure out what we really are, worried Huki.

It didn't sound like only 14 voices to me, Hanadzima remarked to herself.

Hanadzima and Huki might make a good pair, thought Shehure. She's perceptive enough to tell what's really going on underneath Huki's exterior. She's certainly eyeing him a lot, anyway. Ah, young romantic love. Brings back memories.

"So, you're Shehure, right?" Zhula spoke up, to defuse the strange atmosphere. "What do you do for a living?"

"Me? I am a novelist," announced Shehure proudly.

"Reallly?" asked Lhoru, amazed. "Wow! I didn't know I was living with a novelist!"

"Shut up, Lhoru, you're making Shehure's perverted head blow up," groaned Lhadoman.

"You never asked Shehure, did you?" Hanadzima turned back to Shehure. "May I see some of your books?" The dog exuberantly ran into his private study, and returned carrying two books.

"I dabble in a variety of genres, but these are two of my more serious works," explained Shehure, handing the books to Hanadzima.

"_One Day in Lhose_," read Hanadzima, "and this other one…my, how interesting." Her elegant eyebrows arched.

Blushing, Shehure snatched the book away. "Whoops! Made a little mistake there!"

"Give me that!" bellowed Lhadoman. "_The Hot Summer Night_! What kind of crap is this, Shehure?" Huki glared at the author as Lhadoman hurled the book across the room, onto the front porch.

"My baby!" whined Shehure, feigning deep hurt and cradling both cheeks in a parody of agony.

"Oh, no, Shehure, I'm sure the book will be all right—"

"Ha, ha, Lhoru, don't worry," laughed Shehure, waving a hand to cut short Lhoru's panicked attempt at reconciliation. "My books always survive well. They have to in this house, right, Huki and Lhado? Now if you kiddies would excuse me, I have some work to attend to. Have fun!" He smiled and headed back to his study.

The phone rang insistingly. Shehure cringed instinctively as the phone emitted another shrill trill. I must remember to turn down the volume on that thing, thought Shehure. My sensitive ears can't take it much longer.

"Hello? Shoma Shehure speaking."

"SHEHURE! THE DEADLINE WAS TWO DAYS AG—" The desperate wail was abruptly terminated as Shehure gingerly replaced the phone on its hook. Oh, good. He hadn't had a chance to torture his editor Mhita in a long time. Naturally, the writing for the deadline in question had been accomplished three weeks ago. He'd wait just a little more, then call her back and calmly inform her that his next romance novel was, in fact, all ready and waiting for her.

But first things first. Before Mhita had another chance to dial, Shehure lifted the phone and began dialing.

"Shoma Hathori." The grouchy tone hinted at a recent period of overwork for the doctor.

"Now, Hari, is that any way to treat one of your oldest, dearest friends?"

"Shut up, Shehure. Just tell me what you want."

"You really should get more sleep, Hathori. Practice what you preach…I only wished to chat with my dear friend for a little while and catch up."

Hathori heaved a deep sigh. "You're right—we haven't talked in a while, but gods, this cold epidemic going round the family, and Asheno going through an especially sickly period on top of that…I haven't slept for more than three hours at a time the past week."

"And you lecture me about my sleeping habits? My poor Hari, you could use a girlfriend to take your mind off work. Have a little excitement once in a while!"

"No. I'm fine without one."

Smiling sadly, Shehure thought, as he had countless times before, how hard it was for a Dzuni to have a relationship. It was so easy for things to go wrong, horribly wrong. But finding the strength to conquer the fear of love formed an essential part of overcoming the curse, he believed. For now, he'd back off Hathori, but he wouldn't give up.

"Shehure," spoke Hathori, "really, you shouldn't find me a girlfriend." The dog could hear the doctor smile in spite of the lecturing tone he used. "I'm not one of your pawns." Then he became serious again, and added, "And neither are Lhoru, Lhado and Huki."

"What are you talking about? Why would you accuse me of such heinous treachery?" Shehure adopted a mock-hurt voice.

"I know you, Shehure, as well as most people could hope for. Since you told us that dream fifteen years ago, I've always suspected you'd be willing to go to great lengths to beat this curse."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"Lhoru is part of your plan to break the curse, isn't she? You were able to convince Asheno to let her stay with you because you thought she could break the curse."

"It's not that simple, Hathori." The doctor had hit upon part of the truth, but not entirely.

"Please. Just tell me: are you going to do anything to her, or force her to do anything harmful?"

"Hathori, you make it sound like I'm scheming to sacrifice her under a full moon. I'm not planning anything to do with her," insisted Shehure, "and breaking the curse is not why I convinced Asheno to let her stay. I wanted her to stay because she helps Huki and Lhadoman live more peacefully with each other, and she teaches them how to interact with real people, not just demented Shomas. Why, today she's brought over her two best friends for a sleepover, and they're playing cards with the boys right now." Shehure could hear a lively argument ("Orangey, you're cheating!" "Am not!" "Yes, you are, dammit!"). "That never happened for Huki and Lhado before. Her compassion naturally brings out the best in everyone she meets."

A period of silence ensued. Finally Hathori said, "Look, Shehure, I want out of the curse just as badly as every other Dzuni. I do. I don't approve of your games but…I will always be your friend."

"Thanks, Hathori. I appreciate that I really do."

"Remember, though, that eventually someone is going make your plans implode. It could be Asheno, Lhadoman, or even Lhoru. Be careful."

"Don't worry, Hathori, I'm the dog—a survivor!"

"Goodbye."

"Bye! And get some sleep!"

It wasn't until after he hung up the phone that Shehure realized he'd been sweating. Glistening beads of sweat appeared on his hand when he wiped his forehead. Hathori was the one person Shehure could never quite successfully pull off lies with—well, that had also been true of the former family head, Ekhuze, but only because Ekhuze scared one so badly as to render one incapable of rational thought. Perhaps Hathori had gotten his ability to discern the truth from Ekhuze…Shehure quickly erased the repulsive idea from his memory. I can't believe I still recall Ekhuze so well after twenty years, thought Shehure. And Hathori is definitely nothing like Ekhuze.

Memories of Hathori's and his abuse by Ekhuze reminded Shehure why it'd been necessary to lie to Hathori. If Asheno found out about Shehure's plan, he would mercilessly punish everyone involved. One thing was certain: Asheno did not want the curse to be broken. He'd become too entrenched in the idea of his death, and breaking the curse would allow him to live longer and rob him of being the Dzuni god. At the age of twenty, Asheno well fulfilled the prophecy of madness that had plagued every one of his predecessors.

But unlike Ekhuze, who had merely been extremely violent, Asheno possessed a hyperactive jealousy. He didn't mind what his Dzuni did as long as they did not fall in love with someone. Actually, that wasn't strictly true. One reason Asheno allowed the Dzuni to go to school and work outside of the main estate was the hope that they'd see they had no chance of normal relationships outside the family, and turn back to their loving God. No coincidence, the history of Dzuni marrying each other.

Asheno took things a step further, however. Having a lover or spouse, even a fellow Dzuni, by Asheno's reasoning, meant less devotion to their God in turn. Therefore, anyone who dared fall in love with one of his Dzuni had to be severely punished, thus the harsh fate Hathori's fiancée Hana suffered. Shehure, Ahame, and Hathori had all had to keep their dating a secret. And Shehure worried about his little brother, Hatsuharu, having a close relationship with Rin the horse. Frankly, thought Shehure, that was the biggest danger Lhoru faced, because it seemed likely she would develop a relationship with Huki or Lhado. Could she, even with all her compassion, survive the inevitable, possibly fatal, retaliation from Asheno?

If she didn't, all of Shehure's plans would be ruined, Huki and Lhado would be hurt, not to mention Lhoru. The girl could definitely win over the Dzuni, but Asheno was the greatest barrier. Shehure's plan for the family's liberation from the curse was based on an old manuscript he found under Asheno's bed, of all places. He'd been fourteen at the time, and was playing hide-and-seek with the young Asheno, then seven. While scrambling under the bed, Shehure's hand accidentally flipped over a loose floorboard. Lying in the dust of the hole was a ripped-up piece of paper, containing spidery, extremely faded handwriting. Later at home in the privacy of his own room, Shehure made out the one enigmatic line written on the paper: "To break the curse someone outside of the Shoma must overcome with compassion the monster residing in the Dzuni."

The scrap of paper, which resided in a small box in a deep corner of his desk, represented the fruit of Shehure's extensive search for the cure. It was too vague for his taste, especially the second half of the sentence, and its authenticity uncertain. However, it was the closest thing to a real cure he'd ever found. So he had gone over all the possible meanings for the second part. What was the "monster"? Could it be Lhadoman's true form? Asheno? Or maybe the dark side of each Dzuni's psyche? Every member of the Dzuni had his and her own hang-ups. The idea that the monster was something entirely different and unknown hung in the back of Shehure's mind, like an unwelcome guest. No matter how hard he tried, he could never force it to leave permanently.

In any case, he felt fairly confident Lhoru could help each Dzuni open up and interact with normal people. She was already succeeding with Huki and Lhado, and others would soon meet her. Shehure had taken care that word of Lhoru reached all the Dzuni. So far, a few definitely wanted to see her—after all, an outsider who could accept their "condition" with no reservations was a true rarity. Others were more or less not paying attention to her presence; Shehure would worry about them later. Small steps first. Once the Dzuni had been conquered, Asheno would have to be won over. And Shehure would have to convince Khazuma to unleash Lhado's true form once the martial arts master returned from his training in the mountains.

He felt a slight pang of guilt at manipulating Lhoru and his family, but he reasoned it was best for everyone in the end. The exhortation of Mihoshi, the old sheep who had now been dead for twenty years, to break the godforsaken curse still burned in words of fire inside Shehure's consciousness.

What next, after the curse was broken? The dog figured, leave that until it is actually broken. He didn't dare dwell on its never being broken.

Later that night, Huki found Hanadzima sitting in a comfy chair, leafing through Shehure's romance novel, the one he had tossed out onto the porch.

"Really, you don't need to read that," Huki said, surprised at the feeling of mortification that arose within him. Shehure's perversion always embarrassed him, but this was different. It was more personal, somehow.

Hanadzima shook her head. "I find it interesting." She never looked up from the book. Her eyes only appeared to be scanning the page. Hanadzima was not reading the words; instead, she concentrated on the bizarre waves emanating from Huki.

"I hope you don't mind Mileshi Lhoru staying with us," Huki spoke nervously, "don't let Shehure give you the wrong impression…"

"No, no, you, Lhado, and Mr. Shoma are all basically good people. That does not concern me." Hanadzima finally set the book down on the chair's oversized arm. "I am only sorry Lhoru felt she could not rely on me or Zhula for help when she needed it."

"I'm sure Lhoru doesn't think that way. She's not the pessimistic kind," responded Huki, meeting Hanadzima's steady look. She gazed at him thoughtfully for a long time, then rose from the spacious chair.

"Huki, you should not withdraw from people so much." The statement took the rat by surprise. "At school you have a reputation for being mysterious, but you really are a kind person. Don't push others away. There are those who would like to know you better." Hanadzima gave him a small smile. "I look forward to talking with you more often." She walked towards the staircase, but turned and faced Huki from the foot of the steps. "And I will be checking on Lhoru frequently, to make sure you boys are treating her properly. Good night, Huki." She disappeared up the dark stairway.

"What a strange girl," murmured Huki, shoulders still tense from the conversation. Meanwhile, behind the closed living room door, Shehure smiled. Lhoru's magic was well on its way in his house.


	27. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize doesn't belong to me either.

**Chapter 29**

"Aw, damn it all." The white-haired boy plopped onto the grass, letting his bike fall into a metallic tangle beside him. Once again, Hatsuharu, Shehure's younger brother, was lost, thanks to his nonexistent sense of direction. He'd missed three days of school, trying to find Lhadoman to challenge him to a martial arts fight. And he had his high school examinations coming up, too. Not that they really mattered for him—Asheno had decreed he would go to Karori, and what Asheno said was automatically inscribed as law. However, the thought of going to Karori with Huki and Lhadoman cheered him up. Lhadoman was his rival in martial arts, but Haru still liked him a lot. Nharu, the rabbit, would also be starting at Karori with him, too. Despite their large difference in size, the childlike Nharu was actually fifteen years old, like Haru.

I should call Rin, idly thought Haru as he sat back, supporting himself on his hands. Rin, the horse and his girlfriend, would be able to give him directions back to the main estate. And my mother, too, she'll be worried. But for now, he'd enjoy the wonderfully clear weather. It would be the last beautiful day for a while yet.

"Excuse me!" A girl's frantic yell rang through the air. "Excuse me! Are you all right, sir?"

Haru realized the voice was addressing him, and he looked over his shoulder. A girl wearing a green physical education uniform panted as she ran towards him, her brown ponytail flying behind her. She stopped suddenly, only twenty feet away.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lhoru blushed a deep scarlet. "I thought you were an old man and that you had fallen or gotten into trouble or—but you're young!"

Haru immediately recognized her as the klutzy but generous and kind type. Something about her seemed familiar. When he couldn't recall why, he turned his mind to more pressing issues.

"It's not a problem," he said, noticing she was still bowing and apologizing. "You can stop now." Lhoru stood up, and saw for the first time that the teenage boy had a layer of black hair underneath the tousled white mop. He was a full head taller, and had wide-set gray eyes.

"Do you know the Shoma estate, by any chance?" asked Haru. Maybe the girl knew where it was.

"The Shoma estate? Yes, I do!"

"Can you tell me how to—" The words dropped off as Haru recognized the sound of Lhadoman and Huki bickering in the distance. They were coming this way. Now was his chance to challenge Lhadoman. "Excuse me for a minute," Haru, walking to the side of the road, said to Lhoru.

Lhoru had been running the girls' endurance run, an annual physical education rite at Karori, and much dreaded by underclassmen. The run was a tradition that had persisted despite nobody really understanding what good it did for the students. Upperclassmen generally felt glad they didn't have to submit to the twenty-minute run, and sympathized too much to make fun of the younger students. The endurance run followed a set route leading from the school to a nearby park, and back. Girls and boys ran separately. Today the girls had started first, forty minutes ahead of the boys. Lhoru, one of the slowest runners, had lagged far behind. Zhula hadn't even bothered to come to school today, and Hanadzima had stopped near the beginning so she could enjoy a new book. Now the boys were catching up.

"Why must you turn everything into a competition with me?" Lhoru distinctly heard Huki chastising Lhadoman, as usual.

"Shut up! You're not the best at everything, you know!" yelled Lhadoman, running even faster, his amber eyes blazing. Huki followed suit, picking up his pace. He coughed once or twice—he'd started developing a cold last night, and insisted on doing the run even though Lhoru encouraged him to stay home. Colds always made Lhoru nervous, since her mother told her her father had died of pneumonia.

Haru and Lhoru watched the steady progress of the boys. As they neared, Haru stuck his foot out onto the road. Lhadoman, absorbed in his race, didn't notice the obstacle. He fell with a tremendous thud to the road.

"What the f—" Lhadoman started yelling, then quieted when he saw Haru and Lhoru. "Haru, what the hell were you thinking? I could've been killed!"

Haru shrugged. "It was the only way to get your attention." Huki stopped, his breathing slightly labored.

"I was just about to beat Huki!" groaned Lhadoman.

"Idiot, we still had to get to the park and back," muttered Huki, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees.

"Whatever," said Lhadoman, resigning himself to Lhoru's anxious examination of his bleeding head.

"What are you doing here, Haru?" queried Huki, ignoring Lhadoman. "Oh, Haru, this is Mileshi Lhoru, who's been staying with us."

So that's who she was! Haru remembered Shehure telling him about her at the last Dzuni meeting two weeks ago. Lhoru, the talk of the Dzuni.

"Pleased to meet you," Haru bowed to her. "I'm also a member of the Dzuni."

"Pleased to meet you! I'm so sorry I didn't introduce—"

"That's okay," jumped in Haru quickly. "Anyway, I wanted to find Lhadoman because I didn't have a chance to challenge him to a fight the other week. I hear you've done some training lately, Lhado? Well, so have I."

"Can't it wait? Huki and I were having a race." Lhadoman brushed dirt off his shorts.

"But I got lost for three days trying to find you," protested Haru. He looked visibly annoyed.

"Uh…Lhado, I think you should just do what Haru wants," interjected Huki, pulling Lhoru away from the two. "We should move over, the other boys might see us," Huki added. The group moved further down the hill, out of sight of the road.

"Look, Haru, just go home and don't bother me now," Lhadoman said.

"What, afraid of a fight?" asked Haru, tossing his leather jacket to the ground.

"No, what, me afraid of you? That's dumb," declared Lhadoman.

"This is going to turn nasty," whispered Huki to Lhoru. "We'd best just stay low until this blows over." He gently led her a little further away from the increasingly combative duo. Lhoru jumped as Haru suddenly delivered a hard blow to Lhadoman's shoulder.

"Oh, no, he's turned black," groaned Huki. Lhadoman returned the blow with an equally unforgiving kick, sending Haru flying to the ground.

"What?"

"Well, Lhoru, you might say Haru has two personalities, like Khagura, except he's much worse."

Lhoru had difficulty imagining anyone being worse than Khagura, a sweet and shy girl who had an unfortunate tendency to become extremely violent in her desire to show love for Lhadoman.

"This personality that you see now…" Huki indicated the sneering Haru taunting Lhadoman. "The family calls him 'Black Haru' when he snaps like that. 'Black Haru is vulgar and very violent. 'White Haru' is his dominant personality, and much more pleasant."

Meanwhile, Haru and Lhadoman had engaged in an armlock, and their verbal exchange didn't reach Huki and Lhoru's ears.

"You're still no good, Haru," growled Lhadoman, "I can predict every move you're going to make."

"Well, aren't you one to talk, the one who can't defeat Huki. Kitten," spat Haru.

"I'm not a kitten! You asshole."

"Maybe after this, I'll have a little fun with your girlfriend. She seems gullible enough—just the right kind for you." Lhadoman blinked at Haru's taunt, then realized he was talking about Lhoru.

"Leave Lhoru out of this!" His grip tightened on Haru's shoulders, and Lhadoman tossed him onto his back. "She has nothing to do with our fight!"

A cry of "Huki!" pierced the air and stopped Lhadoman and Haru in mid-punch. The two saw Lhoru leaning over a collapsed Huki.

"Damn!" exclaimed Haru, his black personality dissipating as he rushed to Huki's side, the fight completely forgotten. Huki lay wheezing noisily, a hand to his throat.

"My…asthma…" he croaked.

"We must get him to the hospital!" said Lhoru.

"No, that will cause too much trouble if he transforms," Haru said. "We'd better get him to Hathori at the main house…"

"No, Shehure's house is closer," said Lhadoman, hovering behind Lhoru.

"We can't take him in a cab, the transformation risk is also too great," murmured Haru. He turned his eyes to Lhoru, and studied her for a second. The remaining vestige of his black personality drily remarked, "Well, if you must hug a girl, at least hug a cute one."

"Lhoru," Haru said with a tone of decision. He leaned over and pressed her to his chest.

"What are you doing, you pervert?" yelled Lhadoman as the familiar explosion occurred.

"Wh-wha…" stammered Lhoru. A black and white cow materialized next to her.

"Hold my neck so I don't change back," Haru instructed Lhoru. "I'll carry Huki on my back to Shehure's."

Finally, Huki rested comfortably in the guest room bed. The group's trek through the city attracted considerable attention, since a cow bearing an unconscious boy on its back was not a commonly occurring sight in Lhasa. However, Lhadoman had done an admirable job of fending off curious children and adults.

After Shehure had repeatedly assured her that Huki would be all right and that Hathori would arrive very soon, Lhoru went into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Haru remained by Huki's side in cow form, until he changed back. The fight had been indefinitely postponed, and Lhadoman lent Haru some of his clothes. Watching the cow enter the kitchen, Lhoru thought Haru looked much tamer in Lhadoman's favorite light blue sweater and casual khakis. Quite a departure from the tight black pants, leather jacket and red tank top he'd sported earlier.

"Will you be staying for dinner, Haru?" asked Lhoru, already planning to add extra helpings to her fixings.

"Yeah, I guess I will," replied Haru, filling a glass with water. "My brother Shehure tells me you're a fantastic cook."

"I'm not really that…did you say you were Shehure's brother?" Lhoru turned her head. "I didn't know Shehure had a brother."

"I'm eleven years younger than he is." Shehure was about 26, which would make Haru 15. "I can see you don't know a lot about the family yet." Lhoru missed the slightly cocked eyebrow.

"That is true, but I'm happy with what I know so far." As soon as she said that, Lhoru knew that wasn't true. She was certain that much of the darkness that hung over the Shomas she'd met so far had everything to do with the family.

If I only knew more, I might be able to help them more, she thought. But I don't want to press them and make them feel uncomfortable.

In a seemingly casual tone, Haru asked, "So, which Shomas have you met so far?"

"Let's see, you, Huki, Lhadoman, Shehure, and the doctor, Hathori, and Nharu. And Khagura! How could I forget Khagura!"

"Khagura certainly leaves an impression," agreed Haru. "Still, plenty more Shomas for you to meet." He fell silent, and an awkward air descended upon the kitchen.

"You seem very attached to Huki," ventured Lhoru, cutting onions.

"I admire him very much," Haru said. "He was my first true friend, besides Shehure. Huki helped me when I had some serious problems as a little kid. That reminds me—I wanted to apologize for my black side earlier."

"It's no trouble, really."

"Well, it's a big pain for me. I snap without warning when I get angry, then I do…things…I regret later."

"Does the black side come from your Dzuni?"

"In a way, yeah. Normally it takes something pretty serious to make a cow lose its temper, but not as often as I do. When I was little, the adults used to make jokes about my being stupid and slow—I think they meant to be funny, but it sure didn't work. You know the story about the banquet, about how the rat rode on the cow's back and then jumped to the front of the line to be the first Dzuni to enter? That was what the adults laughed about. I started turning black a lot. My parents and even Shehure had trouble handling me, so I began martial arts training. I liked it a lot, but it didn't help very much.

"I also hated Huki, because he was the rat. He was responsible for all my problems. We didn't see each other too often because our family head always kept him at close hand in the main house, and I lived in a different house with my parents and Shehure. But one day after martial arts, I walked by the main house and saw Huki sitting in a window reading. At that moment I just started screaming stuff like, 'You ruined my life! Because of you everyone calls me stupid and slow! I hate you!' Huki listened to all of this without flinching. Then when I'd yelled myself out, he says, 'Are you really stupid, Hatsuharu?' That was all he said. He freed me at that moment. I realized that I really wasn't stupid, that I wanted people to stop calling me slow, and it wasn't Huki's fault. I'm really glad, because otherwise I'd still be treating Huki as my enemy, and that would truly be dumb."

Haru calmly sipped from his glass and looked at the clock on the opposite wall contemplatively.

"It's a wonderful story, Haru," Lhoru said simply.

"I see now why Huki seems much happier," smiled Haru. "Today while you two were talking, he was actually smiled. He never used to do that before."

"It couldn't be because of me."

"Lhado and Huki also don't fight as viciously as they used to. I'm amazed that they're down to fighting verbally more often rather than all-out brawls. It used to be they couldn't pass each other in the hallway without throwing punches."

"It was bound to happen. They are growing up, after all." Lhoru smiled, and grabbed a stack of plates. She went to the dining room to set the table.

Haru sighed. He worshipped his older brother, but Lhoru's natural modesty and faith in others worried him. "I hope whatever's Shehure's planning, it doesn't hurt her."

Now Haku had an explanation for the earlier episode involving Shehure and the little Haru, and he'd seen further expositions upon Shehure's quest to break the curse. The path of the visions seemed clear: Faran-Zhuku would show Lhoru encountering each member of the Dzuni, and she would open their hearts one by one. But it could not be that simple.

"For one thing, Asheno's still a sadistic, evil man," he said aloud to himself, in the privacy of his drawing-littered room. He had already built up a veritable drawing encyclopedia of the visions he'd had.

**"You right,"** Faran-Zhuku responded to Haku's spoken thought. **"It not work in way Shehure intend."**

Haku bit back the urge to ask Faran-Zhuku to skip ahead to the real breaking of the curse, especially if the ghost had just told him Shehure's plan would fail. By now Haku knew better than to question Faran-Zhuku.

**"I tell you, before again you reproach me for showing useless visions,"** the wolf rumbled, **"They will help when rest of your Dzuni arrive here. You will be the one who understand them and their powers best."**

"Makes sense to me." Placing a brand-new sketching pad in his lap, Haku started drawing a young Huki sitting in the bay window of Asheno's parlor, facing down a furious Haru in his white belt martial arts outfit. The expression in Huki's face was tired and sad. The white blossoms of a tree framed the window. Despite the obvious differences in manifestation of the old curse and the current Dzuni, it was still comforting to know that others had had similar problems with their Dzuni characteristics in the past. A new thought came to Haku.

"Faran-Zhuku…"

**"Yes?"**

"You once said you could only show me the memories of the most recent Dzuni."

**"Right. So you pay attention back then."**

"Does that include me, Hatsuharu, Kho and all the current Dzuni?"

The ghost hesitated. The silence surprised Haku, for he couldn't remember a time before when Faran-Zhuku had been unwilling to answer.

The terse response followed quickly. **"Yes."**

"So if you really wanted me to be able to identify and understand the current Dzuni, why not show me their memories?" Simultaneously, Haku quailed at the thought of probing his dearest friends' consciousnesses.

**"That is why,"** said the wolf. **"Seeing memories very invasive. But yes, you could see their memories. I say you wait until later."**


	28. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize does not belong to me either.

**Chapter 30**

Long ago, when he was still just a pup, Shehure had grown accustomed to the stifling air that characterized the family head's rooms. He'd given up wondering why it remained so, when it was so obviously not conducive to the god's already poor health. Actually, reflected Shehure, the heavy atmosphere fit the state of the Dzuni quite appropriately; always shut away from the normal world, trapped within a narrow sphere of living, crushed by the oppressiveness of the curse.

When the curse is broken, thought Shehure, I'll order these windows to be opened. Now the dog sat by Asheno's recliner. It'd been too long since he'd visited the family head. A surge in deadlines, and the commotion caused by the teenagers in his house, kept him very occupied. Outside the bay windows, a gentle snow fell, a pleasant precursor to the furious storms that would surely follow within a week or so. Winter had just begun.

"Shehure, you'll never leave me, will you?" The wheedling voice interrupted Shehure's wandering stream of thought. The dog looked down upon the frail, slightly feverish 20-year-old lying beneath a crumpled blanket. The brown eyes looked to Shehure with a childlike fear. Asheno tended to be like this, when he was feverish at nighttime. Hathori had told Shehure, on a recent visit to his house to tend to a cold of Lhoru's, that since Asheno had now reached the age of 20, he would become steadily sicker and sicker. Finally, Asheno would die before his 25th birthday.

Less than five years to live. And not much of a life, at that. Shehure gazed at Asheno pitifully. Shehure really was Asheno's only friend, and he would commit the ultimate betrayal by breaking the curse. Soon after his birth, Asheno had become close to Shehure—the dog always helped him calm down when he one of his many infamous tantrums, and he was always willing to entertain Asheno when he was ill yet again.

"No, I won't leave you." Technically true, but it remained to be seen whether or not Asheno would forgive him for breaking the curse. If the curse was ever broken.

The god nodded, satisfied. For a moment, a twinge of guilt tugged at the corner of Shehure's conscience over the impending betrayal, and Asheno's future death. Compared to Ekhuze, Asheno was only mildly affected by the curse.

"Has that girl caused trouble yet?" Asheno meant Lhoru.

"Hmm? No, everything's dapper," smiled Shehure.

"Mark my words, someday she'll slip and reveal the curse to outsiders," nodded Asheno knowingly. "When that happens, her memory'll have to be erased." There was no mistaking it—Shehure saw Asheno smile grimly, relishing the thought. "Then Huki will realize he was never meant to live outside the estate, he'll come back to me. To me! And Lhadoman will be broken and submit to his fate more easily. I'll never have to see him again…"

All guilt instantly vanished from Shehure's being. His rational voice silently chastised him, "Asheno is no better than Ekhuze. He's just more of a subtle plotter than Ekhuze." Naturally, Asheno had violent moments when he lost his temper and lashed out at the nearest people, but not a quarter as often as Ekhuze had done. Even so, Asheno had already left his mark of violence upon the current Dzuni.

Oblivious to Shehure's critical countenance, Asheno talked on in a happily malicious tone. "It'll be wonderful to have my Rat back with me, where he belongs." It had been a miracle that Shehure had managed to convince Asheno to let Huki live at his house. The meeting nearly provoked one of the horrible tantrums.

The god's brows suddenly furrowed. "I'll be glad to be rid of Lhoru. I don't like the way the other Dzuni talk about her so much."

Jealousy. Shehure sighed to himself. That was always the problem with Asheno, the trigger of his temper. At the humblest hint of anything—be it an outsider, a love relationship with another Dzuni, whatever—that threatened to distract the Dzuni's attention from himself, Asheno became suspicious and hostile.

I hope Lhoru never has to encounter him, thought Shehure, futilely attempting to ignore the certainty of their meeting each other.

Life at Shehure's house continued much as usual, except now Hatsuharu and Nharu were frequent visitors. Lhoru always made sure to cook extra, in case they dropped by. She'd been surprised to learn they were both fifteen, despite Nharu having a much smaller and more delicate frame.

"Wei'll be attendin' Kayrouri as feirst years ein t'e fall!" announced Nharu excitedly.

"Oh, no," groaned Lhadoman and Huki in unison.

"What can I say? Karori's the Dzuni-approved school!" chirped Shehure, in a bright mood after a successful session of torturing his editor over the phone.

One day, on a particularly bitter winter afternoon, Huki and Lhoru walked up the path to the house. They had stayed late after school so Huki could help Lhoru find library books for a project. Squat lamps lined the walkway, illuminating it clearly. In Lhasa winters, the sun sets by midafternoon. Their boots crunched on the thin layer of snow. Elsewhere a foot of snow had already accumulated in the unshovelled parts of the yard.

As they approached the front steps, Lhoru saw a thick bundle of fabric sitting on the first step.

"What is that?" asked Huki. Lhoru bent down to investigate the fabric. She recognized a fine-quality, heavy deep reddish-purple overcoat. She picked up the coat to reveal bright red silk fabric. The silk rustled, and a cool, eel-like object flitted into Lhoru's sleeve and up onto her chest, beneath her blouse.

"Aaaieeee!" shrieked Lhoru, jumping up and down frantically.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Huki, his muscles tensed.

"Eh?" The door opened, revealing Lhadoman's and Shehure's startled faces.

"Augh! I think a-a…worm or something crawled inside me," whimpered Lhoru.

"It's too cold for worms," said Lhadoman. "Must be something else."

"It's Ahame!" Shehure yelled, seeing his dear friend's clothes heaped on the steps. "Lhoru, come inside now!" The girl didn't need to be told a second time. After she dashed inside, Shehure immediately ripped off her coat.

"Hey! What are you doing you pervert!" yelled Lhadoman.

Seeing a lump under her blouse, on her shoulder, Shehure deftly reached under her collar and pulled out a limp, unconscious silver snake about two feet long. Lhoru only stared, barely registering that Shehure had just yanked a snake out of her clothes.

"Ahame?" Huki croaked, eyes hard and tense.

"What the hell was Ahame doing in Lhoru's clothes?" demanded Lhadoman. The dog didn't bother to answer as he gingerly rushed the snake into his study. Huki entrenched himself in a raging, stony silence, and stomped upstairs to his room. Lhadoman and Lhoru stood as they were, staring into blank space. Shehure promptly returned after a few minutes.

"Heh, so sorry about all the commotion," said Shehure, quietly sliding the study door shut. "That was Shoma Ahame, the snake of the Dzuni. He crawled into your clothes, Lhoru, because he was seeking warmth. Snakes are very sensitive to the cold, and can die if they get too cold. That idiot should've dressed more warmly," added Shehure in an angry undertone. "Anyway, we'll let him sleep until he becomes warm again and changes back to a human."

"But why is that lunatic here?" Lhadoman growled at Shehure. "He's an even worse pervert than you are!"

"A strong statement, indeed," demurred Shehure. Ignoring the orange-haired boy, he addressed Lhoru once again. "Hathori, Ahame and I make up the three oldest members of the Dzuni. We're also best friends. By the way, Lhoru, Ahame is Huki's—"

"Don't say it!" Huki, still furious, stood halfway down the stairs. "Get that snake out of here!"

"Now, now, Huki, you shouldn't be so harsh on your brother," placated Shehure.

"Brother?" repeated Lhoru in amazement.

"Hello, everybody, I do apologize for all the fuss." A white hand flung aside the study door, to reveal a soft-faced man with long silver hair and golden eyes. He wore a simple white underdress. "I was merely seeking some heat. Is it my fault I had to crawl to the nearest person? Why, hello, Huki. It's simply been forever! Much too long, my little brother."

"You are not a brother to me, nor will you ever be," Huki forced out between grated teeth.

Completely oblivious to Huki's icy response, Ahame leapt into Shehure's arms. "Hure! One of the few people who truly understands me…Have you been a good puppy while I was gone?" They nuzzled noses. "You haven't cheated on me, now, have you, Hure?"

"Cheat on you, dear Ahame? Heavens, no!" Shehure winked at the snake.

"Stop being so disgusting!" snapped Lhadoman.

"Silly me, you wanted to talk to Lhoru, didn't you, Ahame?"

"Ah, yes! The person I came to visit, besides my dear baby brother, of course…"

"Do not call me your baby brother," growled Huki.

"So you are the flower everyone's been raving about," Ahame bowed and kissed Lhoru's hand theatrically.

A trembling Huki ran back up the stairs. Lhadoman merely kept glaring at Ahame.

"I have to get to Isho's place. I'm late," muttered Lhadoman, gathering his workout bag and zipping up his heavy jacket. "Don't do anything perverted to Lhoru or I'll smash your heads in."

"Have fun fighting bears!" called Shehure as the boy walked out the door.

"I do NOT fight bears!" came the belligerent response.

"I feel a strong yearning for a hot beverage," Ahame said as the door slammed shut.

"I'm so sorry! I should have made tea right away!" Lhoru gasped. She skittered into the kitchen.

"These children are so active, aren't they?" remarked Ahame. He followed Shehure to the dining table.

"Indeed, at a great cost to the house." The two men seated themselves. Magically, Lhoru appeared in the room with a platter containing a steaming kettle and three cups. A lavender scent wafted its way through the air from the platter. Lhoru nearly broke a cup in her haste to pour tea for Ahame. Finally order was restored, and Lhoru sat across from the men. All three took long draws from their cups.

"I was never aware that Huki had an older brother." Immediately Lhoru mentally slapped herself for bringing up a topic that was obviously so sensitive. Well, sensitive to Huki, at least. Ahame didn't seem to have noticed Huki's rancorous reaction.

Ahame laughed. "We are ten years apart, after all. We lived such different lives. When he was little, he was always sick and therefore confined indoors. I rarely got a glimpse of him, so I often forgot that I even had a brother." The smile quickly faded into a sober expression. "Well, that and I treated him badly when I did see him."

Ahame stopped, startled at the ease with which he'd admitted one of his longtime skeletons in his closet. And to a practical stranger too. His friend gave him a knowing look. Shehure had been right when he told Ahame that Lhoru made you feel safe, like you could unload all your great burdens onto her. The old memory returned to Ahame—swatting Huki's deathly pale hand away from him, a hand that begged for help, after Asheno had spent a night torturing Huki.

The recollection burst and the snake contemplated Lhoru. A cute enough girl, although her hair and features were rather plain. But her eyes contained an extraordinary depth of compassion and sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Ahame, I should never have asked you such a personal question," apologized Lhoru.

"No, no, it's fine," Shehure said, taking a sip.

"Yes, I'm not offended," Ahame shook his head. "Actually, I came here partly in the hopes of beginning to mend the rift between me and Huki. I feel tremendously guilty for abandoning him when he needed me most. I'm so stupid and selfish…I wish I had been more receptive to him."

"Ahame," Shehure sighed, "I've told you a thousand times that children have an incomplete sense of compassion and morality. You can't beat yourself up for what you didn't know when you were 15."

"My mother once said it was never too late to try to reconcile with your family. She believed no one could fully live life without the love of a family," interrupted Lhoru. She tried to imagine what had happened between Ahame and Huki. Surely it had to do with the curse, it invaded every aspect of the Dzuni's lives. How could she encourage Huki to patch up relations with Ahame?

"That's a lovely thing to say," Ahame smiled gently at Lhoru. Nodding in agreement, Shehure thought ironically that her statement applied to the Dzuni perfectly. They had each other, but the Shoma family bonds were so frayed and shaky. Judging from how intently his friend looked at Lhoru, this girl seemed to be getting through to Ahame. Even Hathori, generally the only person Ahame actually listened to, had a hard time getting Ahame to understand that soon it would be too late to win back Huki's good graces.

The serious look on Ahame's face didn't remain for very long. "Yes, it shall be a great challenge to get Huki to understand me, his one and only older brother! I must take drastic steps!"

"Um, Ahame, maybe you should…" Lhoru's hesitant words bounced off the snake's back as he dashed into Shehure's study. A gleam of perspiration appeared on her forehead; "drastic steps" could not possibly work on Huki.

"Is he gone yet?" asked a miserable voice from the stairs.

"Huki…" began Lhoru.

"Hukiiii!" yelled Ahame in joy. He clutched a faded scrapbook in one hand. Lhoru noticed that the scrapbook had a sky blue cover with white lace bordering the edges and a large pink bow in the center.

"Huki! You're just in time for some absolutely lovely stories of my childhood!" Ahame rather forcefully guided the boy to the table before he had time to react. "I made this book with my very own hands as a high school graduation present for Shehure."

Huki eyed the pink bow disdainfully, as it bounced after Ahame placed the book on the table. He could well believe Ahame had made it. "Ahame, stop wasting our time and go."

Both men ignored Huki as they flipped the book open.

"Look at this, Lhoru! Weren't we darlings?" Shehure gestured to a photo of himself, Ahame, and Hathori in junior high. All three wore the same somber black uniform, a rarity considering Hothans' love of color. They looked the same as their adult selves, except with traces of baby fat, less height, and not as much of the disillusionment Lhoru had seen in their faces.

"Oh, how I suffered in that dreary uniform!" moaned Ahame. "What were they thinking? Surely the climate wasn't bad enough already that they had to make us wear…THOSE!" He gagged.

"You're right, dear Ahame." Fleetingly Lhoru wondered if Shehure and Ahame were lovers, but her concern for Huki pushed such questions aside immediately. Huki still sat next to her, but he looked away in his best attempt not to pay attention.

"Let's move on to high school," suggested Shehure.

"Yes, yes!" Ahame nodded eagerly. "Ah, the memories!"

"What is that?" asked Lhoru, looking at a photo in which Ahame wore something golden.

"Oh, I wore a fur coat in the winter because I couldn't take the cold," chuckled Ahame. "I lied to the principal and said I had a rare medical condition."

"The principal of Sharushu High School was very strict about the dress code," explained Shehure. "Ahame, you certainly had plenty of tiffs with that old man."

"You must hear how I was able to keep my hair long," declared Ahame, slapping his hand on the table.

"No," said Huki.

"Good!" Ahame plowed on. "Naturally, the rules said we couldn't have long hair. But I wasn't about to lose my wonderfully silky tresses, I'd worked too hard nursing them. So one day after our first year began, the principal stopped me in the hallway and says in that pompous way of his, 'Shoma, I have allowed you to keep that color, but I do not recall giving you permission to have long hair.' Of course, I was in despair when I heard that. How could I save my precious hair? So I invented a story then and there. He says to me, "If you do not get it cut by tomorrow, I shall call your family head.' It was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath and said, "There is something you don't know about me, sir. I hail from a family with powerful magical and spiritual abilities. My hair is the link to my powers. If it were cut, I don't know how my demon familiars would react. I would do my best to keep them from destroying the school, but there's no guarantee they would decide to place a curse on you and make you go bald, or lose your sight, or give you nightmares. Then once my enemies found out I'd lost my powers, they'd besiege the school and continue until…' At that point, the principal is looking really scared, and he yells, 'Fine! Fine! Keep your hair long! Just don't come near me again!' Who knew he was so superstitious?"

"You did, you mischievous little snake," laughed Shehure.

"Perhaps I did have some advance information," admitted Ahame.

"That was a funny story, Ahame!" complimented Lhoru. Ahame's principal reminded her very much of Karori's. "Oh, Ahame, is that a club band?" In another photo, the teenage Ahame sported a blue armband around his fur coat's sleeve.

"Yes, I was president of the Student Government," answered Ahame.

"President?" Shock covered Huki's face. Lhoru smiled happily—he was listening, after all! "How could YOU be president of the student body?"

This is your chance, Ahame, thought Lhoru. Huki's interested now.

"Ha ha, well, Hathori did help me quite a bit as vice president." Ahame leaned back in his chair and sipped some tea.

"Hathori was always the responsible one," said Shehure.

"He would've made a much better president," laughed Ahame, "but as it was, the student body deemed me the handsomest of the two. I am a most unusual specimen."

"I'm going to tell on you to Hathori," teased Shehure.

"Oh, Shehure, do you remember that big scandal during our last year?"

"The scandal? Of course, I'd never forget something like that!"

"What happened?" asked Huki.

Ahame closed his eyes, a meditative look crossing his face. "Once while my history class was out on a field trip, some boys slipped away from the group and went into a brothel."

"Oooohh…" murmured Huki and Lhoru, their eyes widening.

"They were just curious, as any boy at that age would be. Naturally, the school wanted to expel them, and there was a big meeting with the students, parents, and administrators. As the representative of the student body, I also attended. And I took it upon myself to aid the poor boys however I could. I spoke and said, 'Ladies and gentlemen, expulsion is a very harsh punishment, and is it really necessary? These boys were merely acting upon a natural impulses, which all human beings share. Expelling them will only deny our humanity and worsen our tendency to be narrow-minded and prudish. Rather, we should attempt to deal with our carnal desires as best as we can, and find appropriate outlets so such tragic incidents as this don't happen again. Therefore, I declare that you may vent all your carnal desires on me.'"

"Please, please tell me you did not actually say something that stupid," groaned Huki.

"Actually, Huki," corrected Shehure, "it was quite clever. Ahame saved those boys from expulsion because the principal was too busy screaming at him to throw out the boys, and Hathori arranged an alternative punishment for them. But you were suspended, though, weren't you, Ahame?"

"For a week. But it was a cause worth martyring myself for." Ahame nodded sagely. Huki's mouth hung open in shock…or disgust…Lhoru couldn't tell which. Everybody turned their heads as the front door opened.

"TORIIII!" shrieked Ahame joyfully as he leapt out of his chair and trapped the exhausted doctor in a breakneck hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you arrived to see the embryonic stages of Project Bond with Baby Brother! Or the "Three B's as I like to think of it. I've been telling Huki stories…"

"WE ARE NOT BONDING!" bawled Huki, storming off to the kitchen.

"Ahame, stop this nonsense, my head is killing me," said Hathori. "I came to drive you home."

"Oh, okay, Tori. Shall I drive to make up for forcing you to brave an incredible journey through the snow?"

"No."

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Hathori?" offered Lhoru.

"I'm sorry, but I must get back, the flu is going around the Shoma compound…again." Hathori smiled. "But I'll return another night."

"Ooh, Hathori likes Lhoru!" giggled Shehure. The girl in question looked very confused.

"Shut up, you. Let's go, Ahame."

"Farewell, then, my lover and the fair princess," Ahame whimpered as he blew a kiss towards Shehure. He and Hathori went through the dining room door to the front.

"I'll come visit you soon, Ahame," yelled Shehure.

"Good-bye, Ahame! It was wonderful meeting you!" called Lhoru, clearing the tea dishes. She'd have to start dinner soon, and she carried the dishes into the kitchen.

When the front door finally closed, Huki staggered out of the kitchen.

"Lhoru, just leave a dish aside for me. I won't be hungry until much later." Huki sighed and walked wearily up the stairs. He didn't notice Lhadoman standing in the dining room entrance, with an almost pitying look. Lhadoman quickly snapped back into hostile mode, but not before Shehure had seen him.

"Perhaps you don't hate the rat as much as you act?" spoke Shehure softly.

Lhadoman only hissed back.

"Lhadoman, I didn't know you were home," exclaimed Lhoru, smiling. "How'd you get back so quickly?"

"Eh, I called Hathori and got a ride."

"You never did that before," remarked Shehure tonelessly.

"Ah! Um…I was just especially tired…Isho was extra tough today, good workour…idiot, as if I'd ever do that damn rat a favor! I only wanted that psycho snake out of the house when I came home!" Lhadoman stomped up the stairs.

As she returned to tend to the stove, Lhoru smiled secretly, happiness welling within her. Unbeknownst to her, Shehure also grinned. There was hope yet, if the cat had actually shown consideration for the rat. Of course, Lhadoman would perish before he admitted that he'd phoned Hathori because he knew how strained Huki was around Ahame.


	29. Chapter 31

Only 20-some chapters left (ha ha). Just a quick primer on geography—in the US, the north is colder than the south. In Hoth, it's just the opposite: the south is colder than the north. New characters in the next chapter, which I'll put up tomorrow night, hopefully. :)

Disclaimer: FB doesn't belong to me, and nor does anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 31**

Lhoru stood upon the roof of Shehure's house and gazed at the wintry night sky. Lhadoman, being a lover of high places even during Hoth's bitter winters, had shoveled out a small square around the roof door. Still, the door had scooped aside a freshly fallen load of snow as Lhoru forced it open. Her breath immediately appeared as a solid white puff. Thank heavens the wind had decided to spare Lhasa tonight. Then again, for as long as the oldest Hothans could remember, the wind had never blown during the night of New Year's Eve. The humblest breeze would vanish, as if dictated by a natural law, as soon as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Tiptoeing precariously along the icy edge of the snow, Lhoru managed to shut the door. It wouldn't do to have the cold air entering the house. Huki and Lhadoman's rooms were too close to the roof stairs.

New Year's Eve. Almost a year since her mother died…the anniversary was in a week. Snuggling into her woolen muffler, Lhoru silently wished the weather would be sufficiently warm enough for her to visit Mother's grave. Lhoru willed back threatening tears—the risk of the liquid freezing on her face was too great.

Must think happier thoughts, she scolded herself. Mother wouldn't want you to be so sad on a beautiful night. Her attention returned to the stars, glittering brilliantly. One thing you could say for Hothan winters, the sheer cold sharpened and augmented the night sky to almost fantastical proportions. If there wasn't a blizzard, in which case a sensible person would take refuge indoors. But on a clear night, the light of the moon created perfectly black shadows from anything in its path, and millions of stars blinked, lightyears away from the people observing them. Some of these stars were cradled by a gently glowing, translucent white band called the God's Path.

The God's Path encircled the constellations that formed the basis of the modern Hothan calendar, and it was called after the path the animals took to the banquet. Lhoru now studied the constellations along the Pathway. The Dragon and Snake were easy to pick out, thanks to their distinct zigzag forms. The Dragon was much larger, and Lhoru could see the pentagon of stars that formed its head. But all the rest of the constellations were muddled in her head. She never had been able to keep the rest straight. Once, as a little child in a similar moment of confusion, she had wondered if there were other constellations. There were so many stars inside the God's Path, and plenty of space in between the known constellations for new, or perhaps forgotten, ones.

Speaking of forgotten ones, the cat lay dozing on the sofa, in front of the television in the living room of the house. Lhadoman had been lulled to sleep by one of Lhoru's steaming hot chocolate mixtures. The cat had decided to keep Lhoru company tonight, since outsiders weren't allowed to the Shoma New Year's Eve party. And, as Lhadoman pointed out correctly to Shehure, it wouldn't matter if he came or not, because there was no place for the cat at the Dzuni banquet. Earlier, it had been a very tense day. Huki had been stiff, and his look of a prisoner being led to his execution had worried Lhoru greatly. Shehure joked and teased as usual, except an undertone of forced lightheartedness pervaded his every utterance. A banquet should be a time of joy, not fear or unhappiness, thought Lhoru.

She realized she still knew so little about the Shomas and the dark curse that gripped all the affected members by the throat, and continued to evade Lhoru's full understanding. Where had the curse come from? Would the family ever find true happiness? Every family, without exception, has its skeletons in the closet, but the Shomas were a special case. For them, it was not a question of a few rotten eggs, or a particular line that hadn't turned out well. Each cursed member, and in turn, everybody connected with that person, suffered the erosive and strangulating effects of the curse. Lhoru was still murky on how much of the expansive family had actually been touched. The closeness of the _rho_ group, the people "within" the curse, might suggest that the curse was restricted to specific sections of the family. However, Lhoru saw no reason a Shoma born in Rhenigroth was less likely to get cursed than one born inside the Lhasa family estate. Shehure sounded like he was from the south, although the accent was so faint Lhoru couldn't tell for sure.

Huki, Shehure, Lhadoman, Khagura, Hathori, Nharu, Hatsuharu, and Ahame. Eight of the cursed ones so far, which left five that Lhoru had yet to meet. She anticipated those meetings with the same fervor of one meeting long-lost relatives. The Shomas were Lhoru's real family, much more than her aloof grandfather, nasty aunts and uncles, and snobby cousins. They all expected Lhoru to become a gangster like her mother. Hence Lhoru had been treated like a plague-stricken person within the Mileshi family, her father's family. Her mother's family had long ago cut off all contact, when Noha had become permanently estranged from her family after joining a gang. That had been several years before Lhoru's birth. Lhoru didn't know any of Noha's blood relatives, and truthfully, she didn't mind that very much.

However, the Shomas had welcomed her from the beginning, and treated her more warmly after they believed she was trustworthy. Well, certain members of the family, anyway. A vague queasy feeling hovered at the thought of the family head. The one whose name was always accompanied by hushed, awed whispers, and expressions of total blankness, discomfort, or crippling fear. Lhoru remembered all too well Huki's anxiety when Shehure first told Asheno about her arrival, and the mix of anger and fear on the cat's face whenever he caught Asheno's name. Shehure kept his voice dispassionate during discussions of Asheno; Lhoru couldn't discern the dog's true feelings towards his family head. Really, all Lhoru knew about Asheno was his name and that he was the head of the Shoma family, that he had injured Hathori's eye, and that everyone had to obey what he said. The emotions of others were all she could associate with Asheno outside of those bare-bone facts. No one was ever willing to tell her anything more. But the facts were not at all encouraging.

She stared at the God's Path. The cold finally began to seep into her body. She would have to return inside soon. Lhoru began to turn to the door, but she stole one last look at the sky. This year would be momentous. The girl felt suddenly crushed by the massive breadth of the Hothan celestial sky. A haríthe loomed in the family's forecast, an old cliché the astrologists in the popular magazines liked to utilize, and one their faithful readers never failed to believe. Mama, who loved reading such magazines, had once said, "The worst thing is that a prediction like that is always right. Bad things happen in life all the time."At that moment, the air in the room cooled and shadows came into sharper focus, ever so slightly. The next morning, the accident occurred. Lhoru sensed the same phenomenon now—she had seen it in Lhadoman's face as well, earlier tonight. He feared his future.

The cat woke as his shoulder's pinched nerve complained, after being crushed under the weight of his sleeping body for an hour.

"Yowch!" exclaimed Lhadoman, sitting up and stretching his arm carefully. A blanket crumpled in his lap. "Lhoru must've put this on me…" As the fog of sleepiness lifted, he realized Lhoru was nowhere to be found.

"Lhoru?" He stood up, looking in every direction. "Hey, Lhoru, where'd you go?" Idiot, a voice in his head scolded, it's almost midnight, she's probably asleep and you're waking her up, asshole.

"Lhadoman?"

"Geez, you were outside? Were you insane? It's too goddamn cold!" Lhadoman pulled Lhoru by the wrist to the fireplace. Lhoru yelped as he seated her on the floor and threw a blanket over her coat.

"You get sick enough from stress as it is. I'll make you some hot cocoa." The cat strode quickly but silently out of the living room. He continued lecturing while he briskly stirred the mix and heated it on the stove. A smile stole onto Lhoru's lips. The nervous voice in her head reprimanding her for letting Lhado work his hands to the bone for her faded as she thought, "He's so cute when he's nagging me."

"Take it easy, once in a while, would you? Do yourself a favor and let others take care of you…" The behest dropped off, as Lhoru accepted the mug with a wide smile. She sipped carefully but contentedly, oblivious to Lhadoman's sudden change of expression.

His last words thudded hollowly. Let others take care of you. It was then he realized he'd nearly fallen into the trap of wanting to be one of the people taking care of Lhoru. He'd be shut up in another year, secluded from all other humans. Including Lhoru. Damn, why was he letting himself get close to this girl? He was the Cat. The foulest creature possible.

"I'm going to bed," he said brusquely. His pace quickened as he heard a cheerful, "Happy New Year!" from Lhoru. The clock was still fifteen minutes away from midnight.

As usual, an air of oppression reigned at the beginning of the Dzuni Banquet. Asheno had mumbled his way through the traditional opening at midnight, apparently too tired or angry to inject more life into his speaking. No one could tell which, though it soon became apparent.

The formalities having been concluded, the feasting commenced. A tomblike silence hung over the Dzuni, all of whom could sense Asheno's foul mood. The god kept his eyes trained on Huki, who focused with equal intensity on cutting his meat. Shehure's canine nose caught the strong scent of fear wafting from Huki. Secretly, the dog prayed that Huki would defy Asheno—it might help his plans.

"Huki?" asked Asheno pleasantly.

The rat kept eating, mustering all his courage to keep his hands from shaking.

"Huki?" repeated Asheno, his pitch lowering several notches. It was a deathly familiar tone to anybody who ran seriously afoul of Asheno—the low voice seething with an explosive anger.

Everyone stiffened, including Shehure.

"Oh, no, he's going to kill Huki," Hatsuharu thought.

"Should I do something?" wondered Ahame, remembering all the times he'd abandoned his brother to the mercy of Asheno over the years. "But I don't know what Asheno will do!"

The god's eyes bore invisible holes into Huki's cranium as Huki lifted his wine glass with a mildly shaky hand. "Huki, you must answer your God," demanded Asheno. Still no reply.

Asheno leaned back, never breaking his glare. "It's clear to me, Huki," he started, continuing to use his dangerous voice, "that you have spent too much time away from me, and have forgotten how to show proper respect to me, the person who loves you most." Khagura shivered. She hated having to sit next to HIM at every banquet.

Huki stopped eating and dropped his utensils. His chest tightened under the realization of what he'd done. What, was he crazy to inflame Asheno like this? Out of old habit, the urge to grovel to Asheno and beg for forgiveness bubbled to mind. Slowly Huki lifted his head and turned it to his right, towards Asheno. When their eyes met, Asheno gave him a victorious smirk. He could see the fear in his rat's eyes. He could still dominate Huki.

"Perhaps a short stay with me over the holidays will be just what you need," decided Asheno, nodding. He smiled, relishing the thought of reacquainting Huki with "the room."

Stunned, Huki gaped as the smirk transformed into an evil grin. Flashbacks from his earlier years zipped by—fearing the touch of Asheno's hand, the beatings, that small, dark closet…

"NO!" screamed a voice inside his head. Why should he allow himself to submit to misery? He had a life outside of Asheno! He did! There was Lhoru, the person who first brought joy back into his closed existence, and he had only begun to work up the courage to speak to her friend Hana again…Only a short while ago, he wouldn't have even have thought of trying to do so.

"No."

"What?" Asheno stopped his mental musings, barely missing Huki's staccato response. Every pair of eyes focused on Huki. Shehure waited, hopeful.

"No." With more strength and clarity this time.

"No what?" Asheno's eyes widened, surprised. What was he doing?

"I won't stay with you."

An audible gasp rose from the group. The antique clock held its ticking as Asheno stared at Huki in disbelief for a full ten seconds. The rat had turned back to the blackwood table, wheezing slightly. Something funny was happening to his vision…all the lines on the table were coalescing and breaking apart again. He could hear Hathori talking to someone named Huki, far off in the distance, asking Huki if he was all right. As his wheezing intensified, Huki failed to notice Asheno leaping out of his chair, hands aiming for the rat's throat, and the clattering and scraping of wood against the floor as other Dzuni leapt out of their seats.

"I'm losing them, Shehure, I'm losing them all!" moaned Asheno, his beautiful hekasho now a rumpled mess, lost among his equally messy bedsheets. The god writhed in his bed, alternately wringing the sheets and raging. "How could they, those bastards! Even Ahame," he ended with a mutter, quieting down suddenly. "Even Ahame." That spineless snake, who had never come to his younger brother's defense in the past. Not once, not even during the infamous closet episode. But tonight he had shot out of his seat, along with Khagura and Hatsuharu, to restrain Asheno. Overtaken by impotence, Asheno dazedly looked at the ceiling. He growled, and punched the bed with both fists.

"Asheno, you must rest," murmured Shehure in a silky tone, gently pressing down on the man's shoulders. The dog had had long practice at dodging Asheno's flying limbs and thrown projectiles. "Your body has had enough as it is."

"That's the whole point! I'm going to die soon! They shouldn't treat me like this!" Asheno sat up, huffing. His vision swam.

"I wish he'd open these windows once in a while," thought Shehure, loosening the neck of his own hekasho, and ignoring Asheno's continued rantings. "Then again, it is winter..."

He soon realized that Asheno had suddenly stopped speaking. Asheno's eyes focused on the bedsheets as he calculated something in his twisted mind.

"Here it comes," thought Shehure.

"It's all that bitch's fault," growled Asheno. "She's conspiring to take my Dzuni away and make them hate me. I must get rid of her."

The opportunity presented itself to Shehure. He had to jump in before Asheno went on.

"If I may suggest," Shehure cleared his throat, mentally beating down his conscience, "letting Lhoru see Lhado's true form."

"Eh? What? I could just have Hathori erase her memories." Erasing her memories…the god's petulant objection dredged old moments of fury from Shehure's memories, further steeling the dog's resolve for his plans. He did not want to subject Hathori to such a thing again. Convincing Asheno wouldn't be hard, however.

"True," admitted Shehure, "although nothing could break Lhoru like seeing Lhadoman's true form. Don't you remember, Asheno? How repulsive that monster is?" The expressions of recollection and pure disgust on Asheno's face encouraged Shehure. He kept talking, pressing his advantage to the hilt. "Remember the stench, like rotting corpses? The last time you saw Lhado in that form, even you were compelled to take cover behind me. Lhado's true form forced his mother to commit suicide, it drove her to such despair. After one encounter with him, Lhoru will beg to have her memories erased, and by then the whole family will be so upset by her breakdown that they'll prefer to have her forget rather than suffer. And you will be the one to order the erasing, appearing as Lhoru's angel of mercy…" He trailed off. Of course, the family would never see it that way, being naturally suspicious of Asheno's motives. No need to dwell on details now.

Asheno watched him from under dark tresses of silky hair. His sadistic streak warmed up to the dog's proposal. Smirking, Asheno whispered, "Yes, let Lhoru see the cat as the monster he really is. Any half-blind, gibbering idiot can tell they're in love. Yes, that'll make it much worse." He nodded in approval, the usual gleam of methodical madness reclaiming its proper place in his eyes. "Even if Lhoru should get through the experience, the damage will be done. Our fair flower shall be swallowed by ice, as the song goes." The dog suppressed a shiver as Asheno winked at him. "That is what you call her in jest, isn't it? 'Our fair flower?' You perverted dog!" The god laughed loudly.

Shehure forced a smile and stood up. "So it shall be," he began, desperate to leave before his inner turmoil betrayed his true intentions. "You can decide the logistics tomorrow after a good sleep—it's well into the morning by now. A dog must hold his sleeping time sacrosanct."

Thankfully, Asheno waved his hands, agreeing. "Go, go, Shehure, sleep. You will have much to do."

"I will have much to do?" asked Shehure, "What do you mean, I?" An ominous feeling caused his hair to prickle. He had stopped right in front of the door, and the knob's iciness spread up his arm. Or was his own body feeling cold at that moment?

"You will talk to Khazuma, set it up," responded Asheno, offended Shehure missed something so obvious. "Khazuma is the one Lhadoman trusts most. He'll have the easiest time getting close enough to pull off the bracelet, and you are glib enough to convince him to do it. Besides, Khazuma deserves to be punished, letting the cat roam as freely as he does. I must have been ill when he talked me into letting Lhadoman live with him."

"Yes, Asheno, good night," Shehure said, head bowed and shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly as he turned the knob and left the god's shadowy wing. He would take a short walk, and sort out his thoughts. Think of a way to approach Khazuma, who might not be willing to risk destroying his adopted son. No, that was not quite right—Khazuma would risk hurting Lhadoman if it meant freedom from the curse.

"And Lhoru?" asked Shehure's conscience in a rather reproachful manner. "And Huki? And—"

"I understand, I understand!" snapped Shehure out loud, startling a nighttime servant coming round the corner from the kitchen corridors. She dropped her broom and pan with a loud clang. Cursing, Shehure shoved the dropped objects back into her arms.

"Leave me alone, please," he ordered. The frightened teenager ran off into the blue darkness. Shehure waited until his keen ears could no longer detect the sound of light, running steps. Then he turned to his left and began walking towards the guest pavilion, where he usually slept during the New Year's festivities. The guest pavilion had been built to impress. A covered hallway led from the entrance hall to the guest pavilion, and it skirted the eastern boundary of the main garden. Polished windows allowed one a magnificent vista of the fountain, and the bounteous flower beds during the summer often caused guests to slow their walk and perhaps even stop on the way to the pavilion.

As he neared the pavilion, the walkway sloped upwards gently, to allow a small creek to flow through underneath. The rise allowed Shehure to see each barren bush and stiff stalk perfectly, each poking out of the thick layer of snow. The sun had begun to rise, and the sky was slowing switching from black to grayish.

"I believe Asheno actually prefers the garden during winter, when everything is dead," Shehure idly thought to himself as he scanned the forlorn, icy vista. Lhadoman was forgotten, for now. His eyes wandered beyond the rosebush row that marked the beginning of the northwest corner. Against the lightening sky, Old Blood's branches remained deathly black, as though they had absorbed all the bleakness of the night.

"Damn, I need sleep," muttered Shehure. Surely his fatigue and the dawn light were fiddling with his senses—the tree was not moving its branches on its own. No wind blew right now. The tree is not alive, it's not alive, the dog repeated to himself as he stepped through the pavilion's doorway and shut it.

"A tree can't haunt you," he continued to scold himself, trying to convince his fear to dissipate. Old Blood had done it once again. Ever since he'd been a pup, that tree loomed in the background, sending a cold chill down his spine every time he saw it. Ghosts lived within—ghosts that laughed malevolently, mocking Shehure's dreams of freedom from the curse. Ghosts that would never leave, could never leave. They'd been there for much too long. Shehure's mood sank momentarily, before he mercifully collapsed onto his bed and instantly fell asleep.

That morning, he dreamed of a huge tree chasing him and swallowing him alive within its mammoth trunk.


	30. Chapter 32

Khisa (Kisa) makes her first appearance...Hiro is still Hiro.

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, not me. I also don't own anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 32**

Since he had been overtaken with fatigue when he made the proposal, Shehure had forgotten that Khazuma was training in Gogotha during the winter. He would not be back for another two months. Of course, Asheno, as the god of the Dzuni, could take off Lhadoman's bracelet himself. However, he would never agree to touch the cat in any way, and naturally Lhadoman wouldn't take it off himself, for any reason. Eh, two months would be plenty of time to think of a way to convince Khazuma to take off the bracelet; no use killing himself right now.

The dog sighed and started a new document on his computer. He might as well crank out another romance; those helped him think better. His latest "serious" work still needed to be finished, but "serious" writing required too much effort at critical moments like this.

_During the winter, Lhose is a desolate spot, a small oasis of humanity in the midst of an icy, empty plain. The traveller's first question, upon arriving, never varies: "How do they stay warm?" It is an old joke in Lhose—only the natives are in on it. They have the best methods for warming themselves while harithes whip away at the buildings almost every night. Lhasans would despair at the thought of nightly harithes, but in Lhose they say it helps "put them in the mood." _

The computer keys clacked comfortingly as Shehure settled into a rhythm. Writing romances was old hat now, but it never became boring. As long as human nature desired sex, he'd always be able to live well. It was a topic he was an expert on—the dog had an active libido. His teenage years had been a little difficult to get through without embarrassing himself completely…come to think of it, he hadn't had sex since he'd been with Mahalina.

_This is the story of one traveler who recorded his experiences in Lhose..._

"No," Shehure shook off the thought, suddenly depressed. He'd only dated Mahalina to comfort her, because she was in love with the fiancé of her best friend, Hana. "I don't have time for old girlfriends."

It had been a week since the banquet and the long night with Asheno. Shehure was finally home again, and Huki and Lhadoman were enjoying the last few days of the winter break with Lhoru. Although now, Shehure was fairly certain Lhadoman was most interested in being with Lhoru, and that Huki had a secret love among Lhoru's two friends. The dark Hanadzima girl seemed most likely. Now if those two dense boys could only work up the courage to act on their feelings!

His brother Haru clearly didn't have trouble acting on romantic feelings. Yesterday, the cow had stopped by to see his older brother while the three teenagers were out grocery shopping.

"Shehure," Haru said while they sat at the same desk he was now typing at, "Rin and I have been seeing each other for two months now."

Automatically, Shehure responded, "In secret?" Which really meant, "Have you told Asheno yet?" In truth, he'd guessed Haru and Rin, the horse, had chemistry from the glances they stole at each other. And both frequently disappeared at the same time.

"Yes, in secret." The happy expression on Haru's face faded into his usual blank look, as he realized the implications of Shehure's brief question. The specter of Hana, even more so than the curse in general, hung like a pall over every Dzuni relationship. Momentarily Shehure wondered if the reason he pushed Mahalina out of his mind had anything to do with the specter. He blinked and sighed.

"I hope Asheno doesn't catch Haru and Rin," he muttered, rubbing his face in his hands. Flame tree nightmares or not, this curse had to be broken somehow. They couldn't go on living like this.

"Shehure!" Lhadoman's voice called, more flustered than usual. In his distraction, Shehure's sharp ears had failed to catch the running feet and yelling.

A ruckus greeted the dog in the hallway. Lhoru bled profusely from her right hand, cradling it in a state of shock and pain. The blood had already started freezing on her hand before they got to the house. Lhadoman grabbed her cocked left elbow and started pulling her into the kitchen, Shehure following. Huki had gone elsewhere.

"What happened?" the dog asked, as Lhadoman forced her hand under hot water. Lhoru cringed from the throbbing, and stinging as the iced-over blood began to cake off and dissolve. She whimpered quietly.

"Khisa bit her. It's okay, I've got this," Lhadoman said, "Huki's with Haru and Khisa in the living room."

"I should call Hathori. You know how nasty Khisa's bites are." Lhadoman merely nodded.

"Don't bother Hathori, he's so—" pleaded Lhoru.

"This could get infected! You were bitten by a goddamn tiger!" snapped Lhadoman.

Shehure departed the kitchen and headed for the living room. Someone was having fun with him—causing Khisa to show up on a day he was mulling over the Curse of Hana. Khisa was a mess unto herself.

He found the rat bent over a tiger cub huddled with its face to the corner. Haru sat cross-legged by the coffee table, resting his head with his elbow on the wooden surface. There were dark shadows under the cow's eyes, like he'd had little sleep recently.

"Khisa, you need to apologize to Lhoru now!" Huki was beginning to yell at the poor cub, who only bunched her body more tightly.

"No, no, Huki, back off," Shehure pulled the rat up with a firm hand on his shoulder. Shehure had only heard rumors of what had happened to Khisa at the Shoma estate, but he was fairly certain Huki knew even less.

"Huki." Haru raised his head slowly. "Khisa doesn't speak."

"Oh," Huki reddened, sitting on a chair and looking furtively at Khisa.

"She hasn't spoken since school began," continued Haru. "Hathori says she has some kind of emotional problem that's kept her from speaking."

"What happened to her?" asked Huki, dreading the answer. It seemed all too familiar to him.

"Teasing—yaagh! Khisa!" bellowed Haru, shaking Khisa off his left arm. Lhadoman and Lhoru, now with an expertly bandaged hand, both ran into the room, startled by Haru's yelling. The tiger ran into the open closet.

"Khisa!" snapped Shehure, tying his robe's sash around Haru's arm to stop the bleeding. "We've all been worried about you! We're trying to help! Tying a knot, he muttered and stood up. "I'm going to call Hathori, there are too many wounded now. Haru, will you be all right? You're not turning black, are you?"

"No," replied Haru. "I'm just very annoyed."

Everyone remained silent for a few minutes. No sound came from the closet where Khisa hid. On their way home from grocery shopping, Lhoru and Lhadoman had run into Haru, wearing a thick full-length black coat and carrying a bundle wrapped in a blanket. Haru had pulled back a flap to reveal the head of a sleeping tiger. Thus Lhoru first met Shoma Khisa, the tiger of the Dzuni, a thirteen-year-old girl. Khisa woke up very quickly and bit Lhoru as soon as she extended her hand. The groceries lay somewhere on the next block, forgotten. Leftovers for dinner, then.

"What's going on?" Huki finally asked, in a subdued voice, for fear of disturbing Khisa. "Why did Khisa bite Lhoru? What was she doing out in the cold anyway?"

"Khisa ran away from home, Huki," sighed Haru, rubbing his arm gently. "That's why I was out looking for her. She got a fever from the cold and transformed."

"Oh, she should be in bed…" Lhoru advanced toward the closet before anyone could stop her. "Khisa? Please, I just want to make sure you're fine." She bent down and leaned into the darkness.

"As I was saying before, Khisa is being teased at school," continued Haru. An orange blur rushed by Lhoru and out the door up the stairs. Lhoru didn't hesitate to follow. Lhadoman followed, but Huki lingered.

The cow went on. "Khisa tried being nice to her classmates and talking to them, but they just laughed and made fun of her unusual hair and eye color. Pretty soon it got so bad she just stopped talking about three weeks ago. Her mother is going nuts—I don't think Khisa told her anything." He winced from the bite's sting. "Eh, but her bites do hurt a lot."

"Hm-mm," Huki nodded absentmindedly. "So Khisa has no one to turn to."

"She could hardly turn to Asheno for comfort," remarked Haru sarcastically. "And even Hiro stopped talking to her, after she had that accident." Hiro, the Dzuni sheep, had been Khisa's playmate and closest friend from a very early age. As for the "accident," all the younger Dzuni suspected that Asheno had beaten Khisa for some reason. Only the adults knew for sure.

Huki closed his eyes and winced. Haru watched silently—he could guess what was going through the rat's mind. Once, years ago, Huki had also felt completely alone and turned to silence as a means of shutting himself from the world. Haru's heart had sunk as he observed Khisa sinking into a similar despair.

With leaden footsteps, Huki slowly made his way to the guest room, currently Lhadoman's room. It had an air of casual neatness about it—schoolbooks lay open on the desk and the bed, and a set of dumbbells were arranged in a row next to the nightstand. Lhoru kneeled next to Lhadoman's bed, attempting to cajole Khisa out from beneath it. The cat merely stood on guard, having given up on telling Lhoru to leave Khisa alone.

Lhoru, like Haru, recognized in Khisa the feelings of loneliness and hopelessness.

"Khisa," spoke Lhoru in soft, gentle tones. Poor Khisa, her situation must have been terrible if she thought running away was necessary. "You must feel like you can't tell anyone what you've been through. You don't have to tell us what happened right now, but at least let us take care of you. We're all so worried, and you're ill." Silence, then minor shuffling sounds as the tiger crawled further under the bed.

"I also lost it," began Huki. Lhoru and Lhadoman turned their heads, surprised by the newcomer. Neither were sure who, or what, Huki was referring to.

"I mean, I lost the ability to talk." Now in a surer voice. "My circumstances were different from yours, Khisa. I wasn't teased. But it seemed like no one could understand what I was going through, or that they'd listen if I told them. I became shut up in a dark world, I withdrew into it, and stayed there for a long time. I finally came out after a long, long time, and it was difficult and painful. And I don't regret leaving that dark place, not one bit. There are people who care, who won't laugh at you, Khisa. People who love you and accept you. But you can't find those people unless you let yourself out of the prison you're stuck in right now. I…" Huki's mouth hung open, and he stared into blank space. "I'm sorry, Khisa, but please try. It's the best thing you can do for yourself. And I'll keep trying too. We're all stuck, all of the Dzuni. All of us." Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm rambling, I'm going to my room," he mumbled and left as precipitately as he'd arrived.

Lhoru gazed at Huki's retreating back, stunned. Rarely did Huki ever speak so emotionally or honestly. She didn't notice Lhadoman's tension because the next moment, a wet object brushed against her unbandaged hand. Khisa looked up at the teenage girl, still skittish. Lhoru slowly raised her hand and patted the cub. She pulled the cub onto her lap, and free of the bed.

A dramatic popping followed, and a naked girl sprawled over the floor, her head still in Lhoru's lap. Her hair shone a yellowish orange, with slightly darker streaks. It was cut chin-length. Khisa raised feverish amber eyes to Lhoru's.

"Let's get you a blanket, and some food, maybe?" Lhoru smiled at the girl, and grabbed an extra blanket from Lhadoman's bed. Khisa sobbed, and Lhoru wrapped the blanket around her and hugged her tightly.

"Here are the rest of the patients, I see. Oh, Khisa, you've changed back," noted Hathori, stepping through the door with his doctor's bag.

"Hello, Hathori! You didn't have to come for me," said Lhoru. "But Khisa's sick with a fever."

"I do hope you can use your amazing skill to rescue them from the brink of death," piped up Shehure from behind.

"Shut up," commanded Hathori, quickly glancing at Lhoru's hand. "You did a good job wrapping up this hand, Lhadoman." He nodded approvingly.

The cat muttered something about getting dinner started and pushed past Shehure rudely. The dog raised an eyebrow. He'd heard Huki's spiel from the foot of the stairs, thanks to his canine ears. Clearly the monologue hit a sensitive spot within Lhadoman's gloriously tangled psyche.

Shehure took his time before waltzing into the kitchen, where a pot of water stood heating on the stove, and Lhadoman was in the midst of chopping meat for a stew.

"I didn't know we had this much food in the house," commented Shehure, looking over Lhadoman's shoulder. "I'd have thought leftovers tonight."

"Agh! Back away, pervert!" yelled a startled Lhadoman. Something was wrong—the cat was chopping the meat with a tad much vigor.

"You're in a more charming mood than usual," grinned Shehure, standing as closely as before. "Anything you want to tell this old writer? Maybe your feelings for the girl have finally deepened?"

The knife stopped abruptly. "No, I don't care about her or anyone else," burst from Lhadoman. The chopping began again.

"That's quite a lofty statement," replied Shehure.

"Listen, you asshole, it's worthless for me to care about anyone when I'm just going to be shut up away from all humankind in a year from now!"

"It sounds to me like you don't want to be 'shut up in a dark prison,' as I believe Huki put it."

"I'm better off, since everyone hates the cat. At least if I'm shut up, I won't have to see that goddamned rat anymore."

"You know perfectly well Lhoru doesn't hate you. The opposite, as a matter of fact. And do you really dislike Huki so much? You speak as if you were obligated to hate everyone and keep them out of your life."

Lhadoman turned around and glared at Shehure, who kept his expression noncommittal. They spent a long few minutes in the same position. Then Lhadoman sighed, deflating, and resumed his cooking tasks.

"Is Khisa going to stay here?"

Shehure obliged the cat's change in subject. "I spoke with her mother after calling Hathori. She was quite exhausted, and she and Khisa need some time away from each other. So, yes, Khisa will stay here until she's better."

"Great, more crazy Shomas here," muttered Lhadoman, clanging utensils in a drawer. "As if it weren't already too damn noisy around this place."

"You're right, the noise of fighting is not very conducive to writing romance novels," quipped Haru, materializing in the kitchen doorway.

"I shall have to adapt," sighed Shehure. "Perhaps I could move into Lhoru's room?"

"Argh!" growled Lhadoman.

The tiger followed Lhoru everywhere, and the adoration was mutual. Khisa would fold the laundry, and listen in silence while Lhoru talked about her day at school and her friends. Lhoru placed the only sleeping mat in good condition that could be unearthed from Shehure's messy storeroom, on the floor of her bedroom for Khisa to sleep in. The younger girl never got in Lhoru's way; she would meekly stand aside while Lhoru went her way and help with her chores. Lhoru made every effort to include Khisa in her activities.

"I think it's kind of creepy, the way Khisa clings to her," said Lhadoman, watching Khisa follow closely behind Lhoru into the living room to watch television.

"At least Khisa has someone to cling to," snapped Huki. The two boys momentarily glared at each other, hackles raised.

"Well, it reminds me of a chick following its mother around. It's so cute!" Shehure gushed.

"You'd think it was cute!" yelled Lhadoman, forgetting his archenemy instantly. Huki merely rolled his eyes and resumed eating his after-school snack.

Both Haru and Nharu frequently asked Lhoru for updates on Khisa. At school a week later, Lhoru was sitting with the other Shoma boys in the cafeteria. Nharu, in an anxious tone, asked Lhoru, "'As Neirathe come to visit K'isa?"

"No," answered Huki. Nharu bit his bottom lip.

"Wait, who's Nerathe?" Lhoru stopped flipping through her history book. The name sounded familiar.

"Nirathe," corrected Lhadoman, lazily throwing a wadded-up piece of paper at the trashcan and narrowly missing his target. "Damn! So close! Nirathe is Khisa's mother."

"Oh! Of course!" Horrified, Lhoru realized she'd spoken to Nirathe over the telephone just the day before. She was such a ninny—to have forgotten who Khisa's mother was because of worrying over a history test! "No, Nirathe hasn't come to the house, but I spoke to her on the phone yesterday for a long time." She made a point of looking at Nharu. "She asked me how Khisa was, and was she eating and sleeping enough, did she seem to be happier,"

"That's goud to 'ear," Nharu smiled, visibly perked. "'er mouther still cares for 'er! Neirathe just neided a break—we all do sometimes!" Huki smiled awkwardly, Haru glanced at the rabbit, and Lhadoman remained seemingly oblivious to the shadow of Nharu's mother that hung over the room. Lhoru mentally berated herself for making Nharu worry that Nirathe was on the verge of abandoning her daughter. Meanwhile, the rabbit chattered about a current project for his art class. Abruptly, he sobered and switched the subject.

"I cayn't imagine the teasing K'isa moust have ensued," Nharu said.

"The word you want is 'endured,' Nharu," remarked Haru. The rabbit often mixed up words in his fast chatter.

"Thanks, 'Aru." Nharu smiled, unruffled.

Two weeks later, Khisa spoke for the first time in months, when she called her mother by name. The utterance came out in a dry croak, since Khisa had become unaccustomed to talking. Shehure noticed that of late Khisa had been opening and closing her mouth more often, as if to speak. But no sound ever emerged.

Nirathe came for a surprise visit that day. She'd called the house more frequently as time went on, eager for news of Khisa. Lhoru always obliged, and grew to like the somewhat timid-sounding woman very much. She conjured an image of Nirathe as the sort who would finger her buttons incessantly and smile nervously while talking to anybody.

The petite woman who bumped into Lhoru while she was trying to mop snow stains in the front hallway defied her expectations. Nirathe matched the teenage girl in height, and possessed a round, plain face framed by dirty blonde hair. Her soft voice was what misled Lhoru to expect a shy personality.

"Oh, excuse me!" The woman exclaimed, backing away from Lhoru and yanking off her thick hat and gloves. "I'm Shoma Nirathe, Khisa's mother. You must be Lhoru."

Wiping her hands on a rag, Lhoru straightened and set the mop against the wall. "Yes, I am. Welcome—would you like some cocoa?"

"No, no, that's all right. I came to see Khisa and apologize for losing my patience with her." Nirathe still smiled, but not as brightly as before. "Quite frankly, I don't know what I was thinking, to tolerate two weeks with my daughter away from home!" She laughed, Lhoru assisting with her coat. "Khisa's never been away for that long, although it looks like it's safer for her here." While hanging the coat, Lhoru couldn't decide whether the crinkles around Nirathe's eyes were from smiling or crying too much. She hoped it was the latter, and the way Nirathe said "safer" gave her a sense of foreboding.

The tiger's mother donned plain black pants and a blue sweater set; extremely sensible clothes. Lhoru guided her to the living room sofa.

"Has Khisa talked at all?" asked Nirathe hopefully.

"Not yet, but I think she will, soon," reassured Lhoru.

Nirathe's voice dropped. "Everybody here's treating her well?"

"Oh, yes. Huki has been especially nice to her. He plays a lot of games with her after school."

"That's good to hear. Lhoru? Can you tell me what happened to Khisa?"

"I'm so sorry! I'll get her right now!" Breathing quickly, Lhoru ran up the stairs to her room, where Khisa was attempting to hem an old robe of Lhoru's, to fit her. Because of a recent growth spurt, Khisa was now nearly Lhoru's size, and needed some bigger clothes. Lhoru had just taught her how to sew, and unfortunately, as hard as she tried, Khisa clearly lacked any aptitude for the needle. Bandages covered her left fingers, from constant pricking.

For a minute, Lhoru milled outside the door to her room, uncertain what to do next. It was rude to run out on Khisa's mother, but should she have been the one to tell Nirathe about why Khisa became silent and ran away? She took a peek at the diminutive tiger, patiently picking apart a botched stitching sequence.

Lhoru turned and went back down the stairs.

"Ms. Shoma," she began, addressing Nirathe, still looking slightly confused over Lhoru's abrupt departure. "I apologize—it was rude of me to leave like that."

"Oh, you didn't do anything," Nirathe shook her head briskly. "There's nothing horribly wrong with Khisa, is there?" Her brows furrowed as she looked at the stairs beyond Lhoru.

"No—ye—well…" Lhoru paused, pondering how best to start. "When I was little, even younger than Khisa…" she trailed off.

Nirathe took a sip, then realized her cup was empty. Shehure had woken up from his nap while Lhoru was upstairs, and brought the cocoa to Nirathe. This bizarre behavior from Lhoru concerned her more and more. She set the cup and saucer on the coffee table, then rose.

"I should go see Khisa now, I think."

"No, please let me explain first," declared Lhoru adamantly. "Khisa was being teased at school very badly."

"That's why all this happened?" Nirathe gasped, a small part of her perversely relieved it had been nothing worse. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"I won't say anything more than that, it's not my place to," continued Lhoru. "But I can understand a little why Khisa didn't want to tell you. When I was seven, I was also teased, by some boys at school. It made me very ashamed, and I didn't want to tell my mother. I felt more and more miserable and lonely. I tried to hide it from my mother, but she could tell something was bothering me. One day she finally got me to spill everything, and while it was painful, I felt better because I knew I had someone to listen to me and support me. I think Khisa feels the same way, and that was why she couldn't tell you."

"I should have tried harder," muttered Nirathe. "But she just wouldn't talk…I'm positive Asheno is to blame for some of it!" Anger sparked in Nirathe's eyes momentarily, then she determinedly strode up the stairs towards her daughter. Lhoru missed most of Nirathe's muttering, but she was fairly certain she caught the word "hospital."

While clearing the cup and saucer, Lhoru heard a joyful yell of "You spoke!" erupt from upstairs, then both mother and daughter sobbing. As her eyes welled up, Lhoru thought that Nirathe and Khisa would turn out fine. It would take time, but these things always did.


	31. Chapter 33

Rin is still Rin...

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize doesn't belong to me, either.

**Chapter 33**

Not wishing to jinx Khisa's emotional convalescence, Nirathe decided to let Khisa stay at Shehure's house with Lhoru for a little while longer. Khisa would return to school in a week. Not that Nirathe relished the idea of Khisa returning to the classroom of the teacher who didn't lift a finger to help her. And when Khisa returned to school, she'd also be returning to live with Nirathe in their house inside the Shoma estate. Much too near Asheno for Nirathe's comfort.

But she had to admit she was proud of how well Khisa was rallying. Yesterday, she'd asked Khisa if she wanted to transfer to another class with a different teacher. Khisa looked at her feet for a minute, then raised her head.

"No, Momma," she said, "I…I should try to deal w-with my problems and not just run away from them. T-they expect me to run away…" Khisa said nothing more; she was still reacquainting herself with the ability to speak.

Nirathe could never thank Lhoru enough. The girl was a walking wonder. Rarely did one meet a human with as much natural compassion as she possessed. To be perfectly honest, Huki deserved almost as much credit for helping Khisa. He had said he'd walk Khisa to school the day she returned; he could afford to be tardy one day.

However, Huki's kindness was merely more evidence of Lhoru's awesome powers. As she mixed the dough for Khisa's favorite cookies, she rehashed the stories she'd heard about Huki's youth in the main house. She had seen the rat only from a distance, and at the family gatherings. Two years ago, Huki struck one as depressed and potentially suicidal; he was completely silent, withdrawn, and concerned only with his own problems. Now he looked after her daughter and had started to develop new friendships at school, if she remembered Nharu's words correctly. Lhoru had that effect on every Dzuni she encountered—her goodness spread in a contagious manner. Apparently even the cat, the most hated member of the Dzuni, was out socializing, or so Nirathe had had other Shoma relatives on the "inside" tell her.

Nirathe poured the thick dough onto the flat pan, forming three rows of five perfect circles. She sighed, and placed the pan into the oven. Of course, she had deep reservations about Lhoru's future with the Shomas. Their volatile family head couldn't possibly stand her for much longer. Personally, Nirathe was surprised Lhoru had lasted this long.

"Ms. Shoma?" called a familiar voice from the front doorway.

"Hiro!" Nirathe snapped out of her reverie, and walked to the living room. "Hiro, come inside, and close that door! You've been out in the cold long enough!"

"I'm fine," smiled the twelve-year-old boy politely. Shoma Hiro was the sheep of the Dzuni. His distinctive features included wide-set, skeptical dark brown eyes, and chestnut hair. He came up to Nirathe's shoulder—he wouldn't hit his growth spurt for a year or two more.

"And didn't I tell you to call me Nirathe?" gently chided Nirathe as she took the boy's coat. Hiro followed Nirathe into the kitchen. "How is your mother, Hiro?" Parents who truly accepted and loved their Dzuni children were a rarity, and quite often lonely within the family because they had very few people to share their worries and difficulties with. Nirathe had befriended the monkey's mother, Khagura's mother and two overprotective older sisters, and, despite the age gap, Shehure and Haru's parents. A pitifully short list, considering the Shoma family's sheer size. Merila Horu, the mother of Hiro, became her best friend because they were the same age, had children practically the same age, and Horu had a wonderful personality. When Hiro was born and Horu found out he was the sheep, she burst out saying, "Oh, good! I love sheep! They're such smart animals, growing all that wool to stay warm in this icy place!" Perhaps she was not the brightest person, but her son made up for that.

Hiro rolled his eyes. "Mother nearly killed herself this morning," he sighed exasperatedly, "she wasn't looking and tripped on a book she'd dropped at the top of the stairs the night before! Naturally, she almost fell down the stairs, but I grabbed her just in time. I tell her again and again to be careful, but she does not listen. After I pulled her back, she laughed at herself for being so clumsy! Silly woman, she could have been seriously hurt."

Nirathe smiled to herself. Yes, good thing Horu had her beloved sheep to watch over her. Horu was not the most graceful or practical of women. "I'm glad Horu survived, and please let her know I'm coming for dinner tonight like we planned."

"I will," nodded Hiro, "although dates with you or me are the only ones she ever remembers. But I'll remind her anyway. Are you cooking something? It smells good in here."

"I'm making Khisa's favorite cookies, chocolate chips."

The boy jumped to attention at the sound of Khisa's name. "How is Khisa?"

"She's fine. She's talking more and more every day." Even though her back was turned to Hiro, Nirathe could picture clearly in her mind the expression on his face: eager to know, yet extremely guarded still.

"Those men are not bothering her?" Hiro asked sternly. He meant Shehure, Huki and Lhadoman.

"Oh, no, they've been very nice to her, especially Huki." Since Khisa ran away, Hiro came to Nirathe's house every day to ask after her. Before she lost her voice, Khisa and Hiro played together all the time, and Hiro protected her at school. However, after seeing Khisa in the hospital, Hiro started speaking to her less often and avoiding her. Who could blame the poor boy, thought Nirathe, rinsing off the mixing bowl, after what Asheno did to Khisa. Both Nirathe and Horu told Hiro over and over again that what happened was not his fault, but it seemed futile so far. Sadly, Hiro's frequent visits to get Khisa updates belied how much he missed her. While checking the cookies, Nirathe saw a golden opportunity.

"Hiro," Nirathe said briskly, standing up and facing the sheep, "I'll be taking these cookies over to Khisa in a half hour. Why don't you come with me? I know Khisa would love to see you; it's been such a long time and she misses you terribly."

All right, so she heaped the guilt on a little heavily, but Nirathe felt no compunctions just this one time. The sheep's mouth worked for a minute, searching for an answer. Really, Nirathe's statement had been more of an order than a question. She was right—he hadn't seen Khisa in days, and he was also curious about Lhoru.

"I'll come," Hiro finally answered.

Much later that night, Shehure and Hathori sat at the cutting table in the middle of the kitchen, catching up on recent events in the family. Dark rings graced the dragon's exhausted face. Even taking patients only within the family was a demanding task for one person. Tonight marked the first real free time Hathori had had in weeks.

"You must sleep more, Hathori," scolded Shehure, "or do you have a night life I, your bosom friend, am unaware of?"

"Don't be silly, and let me drink Lhoru's cocoa in peace," groaned Hathori, rubbing his throbbing temples. For once, Shehure complied and shut up, watching Hathori drink the hot liquid like a dying man. The dog's thoughts wandered to the events of the afternoon, an interesting one indeed.

Khisa's mother Nirathe had arrived about five o' clock bearing delicious cookies, but everybody was surprised to see Hiro. The sheep kept his face completely blank as Huki introduced him to Lhoru.

"Are you a member of the Dzuni, Hiro?" Lhoru asked excitedly.

"How rude, asking such a personal question!" retorted Hiro, narrowing his eyes.

"Hiro!" hissed Huki.

"H-Hiro!" yelled Khisa joyfully, bounding towards her long-absent friend. She caught him in an exuberant hug, which he returned awkwardly. Shehure, watching from the hallway, noted that try as he might, Hiro couldn't keep a look of pleasure from creeping over his face.

Taking his hand, Khisa tugged him into the living room. "Come on, Hiro, we have a lot to catch up on! Lhoru, come with us, Hiro's the sheep and he's also my oldest friend…"

Ah! What was this? Shehure's eyebrows rose as he saw Hiro glare at Lhoru following the two. Naturally, Shehure had to spy on them from a safe distance. He observed with interest as Hiro kept up a stony silence while Khisa praised Lhoru endlessly. Several times Hiro aimed deadly looks at Lhoru, who remained completely oblivious.

Later, Shehure overheard Hiro remark to Lhadoman, "Lhoru is okay, I suppose, but she's not too bright."

"Hey, watch what you say, asshole!" growled Lhadoman. "Just because you're the top in your grade or whatever doesn't give you the right to diss everybody except Khisa!"

"Hmm, using such coarse language around a child like that, Lhadoman, makes me wonder." Hiro shook his head sanctimoniously.

"You little--!" The cat bristled quite visibly.

What fun these children are, thought Shehure, I shall so enjoy watching Lhadoman's and Huki's romances bloom.

"What happened between Hiro and Khisa?" Shehure suddenly asked, furrowing his brows.

"What do you mean?" muttered Hathori.

"Well, it just occurred to me that Hiro's been rather withdrawn from Khisa in recent months."

Hathori opened his eyes more and looked straight at Shehure. "You mean you don't know what Asheno did to Khisa?"

"What Asheno did to Khisa? No, pray enlighten me." The dog leaned closer towards his friend. Both were unaware of a person standing, just out of sight and within full hearing range of their conversation, next to the kitchen doorway.

"Asheno never told you about Khisa? I thought he told you everything."

Shehure laughed drily. "Asheno's aware of how much the inner estate's servants' tongues wag. He probably took it for granted that everyone knew. And besides, I haven't visited him as often the last few months."

The dragon watched Shehure for a few seconds, and took a deep breath. "Well, three months ago, Hiro had the bad luck of coming across Asheno alone, and getting into a conversation with him. Hatharu was there, and he told me afterwards, that's how I know. It was around this time that Khisa's teasing problems were starting," added Hathori as an aside. "Anyway, Asheno began asking Hiro the usual questions, how he was doing in general, how school was, and so forth. Then he asked Hiro the most dangerous question of all."

"Yes?"

"Whether or not Hiro loved Khisa."

Shehure grunted knowingly. "I know where this is going."

"Poor Hiro," Hathori said, a sympathetic look crossing into his jade green eyes. "He must've been too terrified not to answer. Or he didn't know better. Most likely both."

"He told Asheno yes, I presume."

"Right. And shortly afterwards, Asheno threw Khisa against a wall and beat her so badly I had no choice but to keep her in the hospital for three weeks."

"No wonder Hiro started avoiding her then. The massive guilt and fear of your loved one getting hurt again are too much for a twelve-year-old to deal with."

Hathori smiled tragically. He knew exactly what that felt like. The two continued their conversation, unaware of their eavesdropper's soundless departure.

"Hey, Huki, I thought you went to bed!" snapped Lhadoman, about to enter the upstairs bathroom. He had on the patched blue sweat clothes he usually wore to bed. It was more convenient for his early morning workouts.

"What, you have a problem with that?" retorted Huki. The rat walked past Lhadoman without even elbowing the cat.

"Did something happen?" Huki's despondent air worried Lhadoman—only something horrible would prevent Huki from his usual retaliation.

"I heard Hathori and Shehure talking," sighed Huki. "Asheno beat up Khisa really badly three months ago. All because Hiro said he loved her…" He trailed off, and shut his bedroom door behind him. The cat gulped and entered the bathroom quickly.

The slender Huki flopped onto his bed. It occurred to him that he still had his school clothes on, but his leaden body wouldn't lift itself off the bed. He should've remembered. Hathori and Shehure's conversation replayed itself in his mind. He should've remembered the problem with a Dzuni falling in love. All this times Huki had worked up the courage to speak to Lhoru's friend Hanadzima at school, the countless stolen glances at Hanadzima's silky black hair, and admiring from afar her wave attacks on Lhoru's detractors. He and Hanadzima now had fairly long conversations, although always in a group and never alone. And he'd been thinking of asking her out, somewhere where they could be alone, maybe have a nice dinner. Hanadzima seemed to like him and acted interested whenever they talked, which gave Huki heart. She didn't fawn over him like those idiotic fangirls and every other girl in the school. She'd actually taken the time to learn other things about him not available to the fangirls.

All that would come to a crashing end from one of Asheno's fists.

The only light came from his window's soft glow. Since the night was overcast, the moonlight was more muted than usual. A blizzard would hit tomorrow—an end-of-winter blizzard that would sputter quickly once it started, but still made one feel spring was months away.

"Goddammit! I wish I weren't a Dzuni!" hissed Huki, purposely keeping his voice down. Lhoru didn't sleep deeply, and Lhado was probably still awake. Huki desperately wished he were alone in the house, so no one would be around to hear him kick the furniture and throw pillows in his anger.

"Damn, I sound like Lhado, cursing like this," he whispered, hot tears rolling onto his crushed pillow. If he hadn't been born a Dzuni, he wouldn't worry about outsiders learning the secret, making friends, depending on Asheno for money and security, his father might not hate him so much, he wouldn't have been abused by Asheno, wouldn't have to call Asheno his god, Asheno, Asheno.

"Fuck him! Fuck Asheno!" Huki swore into his damp pillow, pounding his head on it several times. Finally, his breathing calmed. As Huki drifted closer to sleep, his thoughts returned to Hanadzima. What a beautiful person, what a fascinating aura. A wonderful idea sprung to Huki's mind—if Asheno tried to attack Hanadzima, she could just zap him with her waves! And as for himself, Huki would not let a miserable, insane tyrant dictate who he could have relationships with. He'd been making progress in getting away from Asheno. How could he backtrack now?

"Besides," he mumbled, sleep overtaking him, "if she uses waves to attack people, she'll probably be okay with my turning into a rat…"

The next day, the promised blizzard lashed at the bay windows as Asheno sat still for his daily examination. Hathori listened to the god's slightly irregular heartbeat, and wished for the millionth time that Asheno would at least install a fan in the room.

"Well, you seem healthy enough," Hathori finally pronounced. "No change, as far as I can tell."

"For now, anyway, right, Hathori?" Asheno smiled sardonically. "After all, I don't have much longer. But you know that perfectly well, my darling doctor."

Setting the stethoscope aside, Hathori mentally winced. "Darling"? Asheno had something up his messy sleeve today.

"I can't help but notice how tired you've been looking lately, Hathori," pouted Asheno. "One might accuse me of not looking after you properly."

The doctor studied Asheno with a noncommittal air, trying to deduce Asheno's real purpose.

"So I have been thinking." Asheno continued after he heard no response from Hathori. "Perhaps hiring an assistant to help take some work off your shoulders?" The frail man smiled diabolically, enjoying the panicked look on the dragon's face. Before Hathori could start protesting, Asheno cut him off.

"I have already found the perfect person, from within the Shoma family, naturally." Asheno raised an hand to brush off any final attempt at refusal from Hathori, who clung to the edge of his seat. Oh, how fun, thought Asheno, Hathori's knuckles are white and his mouth's hanging open in shock. "She should be very useful for clerical work, and maybe you could train her for other work later on. Close your mouth, Hathori, you remind me of a petrified fish. What kind of manners is that to have around your god? Quite beneath a dragon's dignity, even one that transforms into a mere seahorse."

Hathori obeyed, broke eye contact and lowered his head slightly in resignation. The rest of Asheno's words thudded against his ears.

"She is a bit unusual, but she's assured me she'll do the work well. She's nothing like that lazy girl we had last, what's-her-name—ah, yes, I remember now, Hana. Why you became besotted with her, I shall never know, but I disliked her intensely. You should thank me for ending things before she did something horrible to you."

"Why, Asheno?" asked Hathori plaintively. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Karan—that's the name of the new girl—she'll start next week, after the weekend." Asheno smiled sweetly and stood up, the signal for Hathori to leave. "I thank you for coming today, Hathori."

Hathori gathered his equipment slowly, and began crossing the wide swath of carpet that lay between Asheno's lounge and the door. Halfway, through, Asheno stopped the dragon's departure with an abrupt cough.

"One more thing I forgot to mention," Asheno glanced at the doctor's motionless back, sneering. "I heard that Hana's getting married today. Seems she found someone more to her taste than you. The servants say she's made a very good match. A lawyer this time, apparently. Quite the social climber, isn't she?"

"I'm sure she'll be very happy," murmured Hathori. He resumed a brisk walk, opened the door, and with a final inclination of his head, left without looking at Asheno's face. The doctor walked down the hallway, never slowing his pace and looking straight ahead with a blank stare. He did not even notice his brother, Hatharu, passing by on his way to Asheno's chambers. The silent, wiry bird looked over his shoulder at the dragon's shrinking figure. Hatharu could guess too easily what had just transpired, and he decided to give Ahame a call after attending to Asheno. A close friend would be a good tonic for his heartbroken brother tonight.

"Hathori? Are you here? Hathori?"

"Ha…oo…riii" bounced back from the darkened walls. Night had fallen, its arrival speeded by the clouds left over from the blizzard, which had quickly lost steam during lunchtime.

"Yoo-hoo, Hathori!" Ahame yelled, advancing further into the dragon's house on the estate grounds. "It's me, your most favorite little darling, Ahame!" The snake shook off his heavy fur-lined outer wrapping. More silence greeted him.

"Hmm," grunted Ahame, undoing his multitude of mufflers. He always got stares from more lightly-dressed average Hothans because of his winter getups, but then again, he had no tolerance to cold weather. The snake was becoming concerned now—"favorite little darling" had never failed to get a rise out of Hathori before. Ahame was fairly sure Hathori was indeed home; Hatharu called only a few minutes earlier to inform Ahame about the situation.

Tossing the last of his winter protective gear pell-mell onto Hathori's sofa, Ahame crossed the desolate living room to Hathori's office area. After satisfying himself that it was similarly deserted, Ahame anxiously canvassed the kitchen and bathroom in vain.

"Oh, dear, I do hope he hasn't slit his wrists in a fit of despair," muttered Ahame, rushing up the stairs. "Hathori!" Ahame burst through the doctor's bedroom door.

"Ahame!" Hathori jerked reflexively upwards from his reclining position upon his bed, then lay back with a hand to his chest. A book tumbled to the floor, shocked out of Hathori's hands. A trash can full of candy wrappings rested next to the bed, and a nest of beer bottles held a vigil on the nightstand. "You scared me."

"You're alive, Hari! Thank the gods!" Ahame declared, choking his friend in a neck hug and kissing him on the cheek.

"Get off me, I won't be alive much longer if you keep this up," muttered Hathori, pushing Ahame off.

"I thought you'd slit your wrists!"

"What nonsense are you babbling now?"

A bad sign, Ahame noted, that Hathori was not scolding him nearly as much as usual. His green eyes wandered from Ahame, distracted by inner turmoil. For the first time in months, Hathori wore an ancient t-shirt and a stained pair of jeans.

"Gods, you're dressed like Lhadoman," gasped Asheno, seating himself next to Hathori on the bed. "You are upset!"

"No, I'm fine," insisted Hathori, "I just realized I'd been working too hard and that I should take an afternoon off to relax. As you can see, I've been reading and eating nothing but junk food."

"One of Shehure's romance novels?" Ahame picked up the book. "You really have hit bottom, my dear friend."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hathori rubbed his forehead in fatigue.

Ahame stared at Hathori hard for a minute. Any other time, Shehure's risqué romance novels would sicken the dragon. Hathori made a point of religiously avoiding them, earning endless ribbing from Shehure. "Hari, I know everything," the snake finally said in a gentle voice, "I got a call from Hatharu about what Asheno said to you."

"Oh." The normally proud dragon's shoulders sank. A tragic sight, to Ahame's golden eyes.

"Cry your troubles out on my shoulders, Hari." Ahame attempted to pull a resisting Hathori into his arms. "It's good for you; you should cry more often, Hari."

"I did that already."

" 'Already?'" An elegant silver eyebrow shot up on the snake's forehead. Hathori was the kind to deny grief. "No need to hold back and martyr yourself."

"No, no, no, I'm not martyring myself," Hathori shook his head and looked Ahame in the eye for the first time. Secretly, Ahame felt relieved that Hathori's eyes actually looked focused. "I've been thinking about the future, Ahame."

Hathori sat up into a cross-legged position and reached for a nondescript shoebox that Ahame hadn't noticed before. "I'm very happy Hana's moved on and found happiness with someone else," whispered Hathori, placing the box in his lap. "Although I will admit it was a shock, hearing she got married." He smiled thinly.

"Of course," nodded Ahame. For once he took pains to still his tongue, and waited for Hathori to continue.

"This box has all my pictures of Hana in it."

"Are you going to throw them out?" asked Ahame incredulously.

"No, but I'll put them in a safe corner."

"Does this mean you're going to start dating again?"

Hathori shook his head. "But I can try to protect the younger ones from Asheno's jealousy. Or at least help them cope with it. They deserve the happiness that evaded me."

"Hari—" Ahame cut himself off. Ever since he'd comforted Hathori after Hana's memories were erased, the snake always Hathori had borne horrendous injustice. To be forced to do that to the woman he loved! And now, it was unfair that Hana had found another person to love, while Hathori was still stuck doctoring their chronically ill family head, who'd begun all the trouble with Hana.

"Huki's in love with someone, isn't he?" Ahame asked. Unbeknownst to the dragon, Ahame understood all too well the fear and heartbreak accompanying many Dzuni relationships.

The sudden change of subject threw Hathori off, but he recovered. "Yes, Haru tells me he likes one of Lhoru's best friends. I forget the girl's name, but apparently she's quite odd."

"Is that so?" was all Ahame said.

The front door downstairs crashed open, banging sharply against the wall. The two friends turned their heads toward the sound.

"Doctor! Please come quick!" a servant yelled. "Rin fell down the storage room stairs! She's hurt really bad!"

An hour earlier, a craving for food hit Asheno as he lay in his bed. Because his health was reasonably good at the moment and his spirits had been buoyed by his successful torture of Hathori, Asheno decided to get his food himself and not bother with the stupid servants. The kitchen wasn't too far from his chambers, so he ought to be able to make it.

Throwing on a winter hekasho for extra warmth, Asheno made his way to the main kitchen, where plenty of pastries and fruit were kept out in easy reach. The servants bowed politely and left hastily when they saw the head enter the kitchen. They knew Asheno didn't like to have anyone except his most trusted servants and certain family members around him. None of the servants, except the Dzunis' personal servants, knew about the family secret.

Asheno considered the selection on the counter before him. Mostly pastries—not too many fruits this time of year. Likely the servants constantly filched the foodgoods at the expense of the family, but Asheno felt too generous at the moment to ponder the possibilities for punishment. He would let it slide, for now.

I ought to exert my control more often, Asheno thought as he bit into a delicious cream roll, just baked for tomorrow morning's breakfast. It would do the Dzuni good to remind them who really loves and respects them.

As he chewed the final bite, Asheno heard a low murmuring to his left. Brushing off crumbs on his hekasho, he followed the sounds. Gradually it became clearer that some people were talking.

Those voices better not belong to idle, lazy servants, thought Asheno as he frowned and assumed a more forceful walk through the annex kitchen. He crossed the cool, dark kitchen into an equally dark and narrow hallway that led to yet another annex. It was mostly a storeroom for pots and pans, but in the darkness Asheno could only make out mysterious hulking black shapes that sometimes reached the ceiling. Asheno had to take great care not to bang into pots, in order not to scare off his quarry. Cursing silently, the head made a mental note to order the servants to reorganize the kitchens when the annual spring cleaning began. He opened one of the two doors, and discovered an entrance to a basement storeroom. Again cursing in frustration, he headed for what must be the right door. The storeroom door gaped, swinging on its hinges.

In his trek through the kitchens, he had doubled back, and the partially open door he now faced led to one of the many small parlors that were often used for waiting visitors. The voices' owners stood inside the parlor, and Asheno recognized them as two of his own Dzuni: Haru and Rin.

Asheno bent closer to the door, and listened through the crack. Haru and Rin weren't visible; they stood to the right, well behind the door. The two were whispering, but the absence of chatter and clanging pans made it very easy to hear. The reason for their meeting quickly became obvious to Asheno, and what he heard made his blood boil.

"Haru, are you sure no one will know we're here?" Rin whispered worriedly.

"It's fine," the cow whispered reassuringly, "the servants are always gone by now and no one's ever in this part of the house this late at night."

"I hate winter," groaned Rin, "it's so much harder to find places to meet outside when the weather's horrible."

"Maybe you wouldn't find it so cold if you put on clothes that covered more of your body."

"Haru!" Rin giggled, then stopped. "Seriously, meeting in here's dangerous. Asheno could walk in on us."

"Yeah, my mom's having a party tonight, or I would've had you come to my house. How about doing that, next time?"

"All right. Call me, and please try to clean up your room! I nearly died seeing your laundry on the floor!"

"I'll try to reform my slovenly ways. I don't want to incur the wrath of my not-so-innocent little unicorn…" Asheno grimaced in disgust. He always hated saccharine talk, and those two were obviously kissing now. So Haru and Rin were dating, and they were doing it behind their god's back! They were avoiding him purposely!

After a few minutes passed, Asheno heard Haru speak.

"Are you going out the front door, Rin? I'll walk you."

"No, Haru. I'll go through the kitchens. It's faster to Khagura's house." Rin lived with Khagura because her own parents had grown too abusive towards her in recent months.

"Be careful, okay, Rin?"

"I will. Bye, I love you!"

"I love you, too!"

Asheno darted to the opposite end of the kitchen, and stood in front of the hallway leading to the other kitchens. He heard a door click as Haru left the parlor. Soft footsteps announced Rin's impending entrance into the small kitchen. Asheno straightened—rage made him taller, stronger.

The door to the parlor opened, flooding the annex with the warm golden light. A tall teenage girl, with fiery black eyes and chest-length hair of matching color, fumbled inside her red handbag and didn't notice her god for a minute. A tight deep scarlet dress and black calf boots displayed her full, athletic figure well. She walked a few steps into the room, still rooting inside her purse. The door began to close slowly, the beam of light diminishing steadily.

"Haru's right." Rin's head shot up at the sound of Asheno's smooth voice, the low, dangerous one that every Dzuni dreaded hearing. Her purse clattered to the floor, forgotten. "That dress really isn't proper for Hothan weather. Might give men ideas, too. The sight of lovely breasts can be quite stimulating."

The door clicked shut. Even though Asheno's eyes hadn't yet readjusted for the darkness, he could hear Rin's frightened breathing. He advanced on her, his hekasho making a rustling sound. The tap of Rin's boots indicated she'd backed against the door.

Asheno stopped when he was close enough to smell the faint, flowery perfume she used.

"Rin, you have a habit of always being right, and tonight is no exception," Asheno said. "You remember? I heard you say quite clearly, 'Asheno could walk in on us,'" he quoted mockingly in a high voice. "Perhaps I didn't technically walk in on you, but I certainly heard everything." He could see Rin's face better now—he had her sweating. Her eyes darted, trying to think of a way out, something appeasing she could say. No, Rin wouldn't escape tonight.

"You little whore!" Rin gasped as Asheno's lightning punch knocked all her wind out, and she collapsed, holding her midsection. Numbly she wondered where Asheno's strength had come from. A viselike grip enclosed her upper arm and Asheno hauled the still gasping girl up, upsetting several pots in the process. He forced Rin against the wall next to the basement door.

"Maybe this will help you understand how I feel when my Dzuni treat me like a senile old man!" He slapped her hard, grabbed her chin and forced her to look straight at him. "I am not deaf, blind, or dumb, bitch!"

Rin screamed as he took her shoulders and shoved her over to the basement door. She tottered on the edge of the topmost stair, and a final push from the huffing Asheno sent Rin hurtling down the stairs. The scream quickly ended as Rin hit her temple. When the thudding noises had ceased, Asheno groaned and cracked his knuckle. He examined his bleeding hand as he walked back through the kitchens.

"I'll have Hathori look at this in the morning," he mumbled, exhausted.


	32. Chapter 34

A few more chapters...I may not be able to upload others until the weekend, because I'm finally getting over my illness (I hope), and I'll be busy with work. But more will come, never fear! We're still in the flashback zone...

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 34**

"Ah, crap," groaned Zhula, "the weather's changed again. Looks like we'll have to wait before we head home." The blonde ex-gangster slouched over her desk, chin in hand. Zhula, Hanadzima, Lhoru, Huki and Lhadoman were all currently in study hall, but their proctor was more preoccupied with writing his masterwork rather than keeping the class quiet. Everybody could talk as long as the noise stayed at a reasonable level. It made having study hall during the last period of the day more bearable.

Outside, the wind had picked up significantly, and dark gray clouds gathered and thickened.

"Hopefully it'll pass over," Huki said from behind Zhula. "We've had a lot of quickie storms this spring."

"It's been quite turbulent for a Hothan spring," remarked Hanadzima, sitting next to Huki, retouching her black nail polish and completely ignoring her literature homework.

"Yes, I can't remember the last time we had so many storms in one season," agreed Lhoru, relieved for a break from math. Lhadoman merely kept reading a martial arts guidebook. Lhoru glanced out the window and frowned. "Maybe this is what they call a 'harithe spring.'"

The speaker system crackled, then the principal cleared her voice loudly, eliciting a round of giggling from students throughout the school.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The urgent tone snapped everybody back to attention. "The Hoth Weather System has posted a land harithe warning. The harithe is in its early stages right now. No one is to leave the building without my express permission. Repeat: no one is to leave the building until the harithe ends. Teachers, make sure all the shutters and curtains are closed in your classrooms. Afterwards, all students will fetch their books and personal items from their lockers, and proceed calmly to the following places: First years to the theater, and second and third years to the gymnasium. All homeroom teachers will check in with their students. Remember, do not panic. It will be fine. We will give you updates over the loudspeaker every so often. Also, if you need to make any phone calls, call sooner rather than later because the winds may knock out lines."

An excited buzzing arose from the students, some worried and frightened, others curious. Because harithes were rare, many students couldn't remember the last one, which occurred when they were only three to five years old.

"Where the fuck did a harithe come from?" growled Lhadoman. "Zhula, get out of my way!" He was trying to bring a stiff-hinged shutter around.

"Shut up, stupid, you'll break the goddamn shutter like that!" Zhula violently elbowed Lhadoman aside, and successfully coaxed the ornery shutter into place and latched it.

"Here's the duct tape for securing the shutter," Huki said, tossing a roll to Zhula.

"Thanks, kid," called Zhula. "And for your information, Lhadoman, spring IS harithe season, as also is winter." She placed a long strip of tape down the crack between the two shutter doors.

"I knew that!" snapped the bristling cat.

Noting that their spineless proctor was doing nothing to help with emergency preparations, Huki aided two boys on the other set of windows in the room. They were lucky to have only two sets of windows in their room. He hated to think of what the cafeteria and library were like at the moment—the staff must be racing to cover up those wide windows.

Only Hanadzima noticed how tense Lhoru had become during the announcement. Her knuckles were white from her tightly folded hands, and she stared at the top of her desk.

"Lhoru," said Hanadzima softly, "why don't we go to our lockers and get our stuff? Then we can walk together to the gymnasium and meet everyone else there." To Hanadzima's dismay, Lhoru yielded easily to the hands guiding her shoulders. Normally Lhoru would've protested, insisting that they stay and help the others.

They left the classroom, Hanadzima leading with an arm around Lhoru's shoulder. Students began to emerge from the classrooms, talking and rushing to their lockers. Teachers walked the hallways to maintain order. But Lhoru and Hanadzima formed a bubble, separate from the excitement surrounding them.

During the walk down a flight of stairs and through two hallways, Hanadzima's wave sensor detected terror and overwhelming anxiety gushing from Lhoru, who started trembling slightly as the wind rose one notch higher in pitch. They finally reached their locker bank. Hanadzima turned Lhoru so that they faced each other.

"Lhoru, you're so scared because of what happened to your father, right?"

"I-I…" stammered Lhoru, fighting sobs. Panic flashed in her eyes. "Lhado, Huki…you and Zhula, what if you go out into the storm?"

"No, none of us are going to die, Lhoru," declared Hanadzima firmly, gripping the girl's wrists and forcing her to make eye contact. "Listen to me. This is a land harithe, not a sea harithe. It'll end quickly, and the wind won't get that high. You know that if it were more serious, they'd order us into the basement and not the—"

"L'oru!" Running footsteps and Nharu's frantic yell cut short Hanadzima's ministrations. The normally bubbly boy stopped next to them, panting and visibly alarmed.

"L'oru!" He gasped, trying to catch his breath. Hanadzima could see every blood vessel in Nharu's eyes; they were wide open.

Lhoru's miseries evaporated. "What's wrong?"

"'Aru's gone black! 'E's smashing up t'e classroom! Ei'm going to geit 'Uki and L'ado!" Nharu rushed away from the girls and up the staircase.

"We've got to help, Dzima!" Lhoru decided as she turned the corner into the third wing of the building.

Hanadzima sighed and followed. "What a time to go nuts," she thought as she ran gingerly. Running had always been so distasteful to her.

Other first-year students fled in the opposite direction, away from the crashing noises at the end of the hallway.

"What happened to your teacher?" Hanadzima asked a girl standing dazed in the hallway.

"She left us to help with boarding the cafeteria," answered the girl, intimidated by the older student addressing her.

"Well, get to the theater now, you'll be fine." The girl nodded dumbly and rejoined the exodus. Hanadzima turned and closed the short distance between her and Lhoru, who was standing in front of the classroom's entrance with a hand to her mouth, horrified. Desks had been overturned, and splinters dotted the floor. Pencils, notebooks, backpacks, and other student supplies had been thrown willy-nilly. Luckily the shutters covering the windows were still intact. The scene fascinated Hanadzima in a morbid way. She'd heard stories of Haru's bad temper, and her wave sensor had told her he had unstable elements in his psychology, but she'd never actually seen Haru's black side.

The student in question stood slumped in the far corner, his chest heaving.

"Haru?" tentatively began Lhoru.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Hanadzima hissed to her. Animalistic fury and deep grief were sending the wave sensor into overdrive. "We should leave and let Huki and Lhadoman take care of this." She tood hold of Lhoru's elbow, trying to pull her back gently.

"Oh, you're here," Haru nodded cynically, then sneered at Lhoru. "The one who can make everybody's problems disappear by magic!" To Hanadzima, his threatening stance reminded her of a wild bull menacing intruders on its territory.

"We really should leave," she whispered, keeping an eye on Haru as she pulled a resisting Lhoru further back towards the door.

"You think you can help me, huh?" Haru yelled at Lhoru, who finally began to understood how precarious the situation really was.

"What are you doing here? Shit, what happened?" demanded an angry Mhamu Mahalina, the girls' homeroom and literature teacher. She'd been monitoring the halls, making sure windows were properly covered up and students stayed calm. She was too cranky to refrain from cursing. "The harithe's supposed to be outside, not inside!" Mahalina took one look at the frightened girls slowly backing away from an angry Haru. He'd stopped when he saw Mahalina enter.

"Teacher, we'll handle this," Huki's voice came from behind.

"Fuck, Haru, what did you do?" exclaimed Lhadoman. "Dzima, get Lhoru the hell outta here!"

"Allow me, boys," Mahalina resolutely stepped forward. "Shoma!" she said sternly, addressing Haru. "We're in the middle of a weather emergency. Stop this idiocy now!"

"Teacher, please don't—" begged Huki, seriously fearing for Mahalina's safety. The rat began to follow Mahalina, who was already halfway across the room.

"I don't see any weather emergency," replied Haru insolently, as Mahalina stopped in front of him with her arms crossed.

"Maybe you will now, smartass," she said, and delivered a swift, hard slap to the side of his head. Hanadzima and Lhoru gasped in sync as Lhadoman and Huki froze. Haru stood stunned for a minute, touching the affected spot lightly. The blazing expression in Haru's eyes fizzled to one of surprise.

"Uh…did I do all this?" Huki sighed in relief as he heard the normally monotonous voice of White Haru.

"Yes, but we'll deal with this after the harithe's over," Mahalina said. "All of you, get your butts to the gymnasium now!"

Finally, all the students and staff were gathered into the theater and gymnasium. A bizarre sort of order, mixed with boredom, anxiety, and waiting, prevailed. Students who had initially felt excitement at being caught in a harithe became steadily more disillusioned as the endlessly howling wind grated on their nerves and the building continued to shake slightly from the onslaught of the wind. Both the hellish noise and shaking were impossible to escape.

It was now late afternoon, but the wind had demolished the power system long ago. Flashlight beams cut through both theater and gymnasium. After taking roll call for their homeroom students, the exhausted teachers kept up a steady watch at the exit doors and the hallway connecting the two shelters. They didn't care what else students did as long as it didn't violate propriety and things kept relatively quiet.

Students huddled in small circles with their friends, and a large number were lying down, using bookbags for headrests. Zhula effectively used her former gangster aura to secure a corner of the gym for herself, Lhoru, Hanadzima, Huki, and Lhadoman. Mahalina secured permission for Haru and Nharu to stay with their cousins, managing to evade telling the principal what had happened. Clearly Huki and Nharu were the only people who could deal with Haru at this point.

Huki and Haru sat a ways off from the group and anyone else, along the northern edge of the gym. This edge was not attached to any other structure, so the sound of the wind carried through the wall very easily. Hence the fact that everybody avoided the north wall, and it was the best place for a private conversation at the moment.

Haru sat against the wall, despite Huki's best attempts to draw him away from it. Although the rat knew the wall was two feet thick, the increased volume of the wind had inflamed semi-subconscious fears of the walls collapsing under the wind's onslaught. Huki sighed and tried to think of a way to start.

"Haru," Huki finally said. "Haru!" he yelled after he realized the wind had drowned out his voice the first time.

"Yeah?" grunted Haru, playing with a ring on his finger.

"What's wrong?" Lame beginning, considering how upset Haru clearly was, but it was the best thing Huki could think of.

At first Haru just stared at Huki, and looked back at his ring. The wind quieted almost imperceptibly. An intense feeling of déjà vu surrounded Huki. He could recognize the same hopeless anger and despair that was now sucking Haru into its void. It occurred to Huki, once again, how he would risk drawing Hanadzima into the same void if Asheno ever found out.

"You remember when Rin got hurt, right?" Haru asked in a dull voice.

"Yeah," nodded Huki. He remembered all too well the rage Shehure had been in for a week afterwards—the seething, silent kind. The dog hadn't even bothered to attempt concealing it from Lhoru, and Huki couldn't recall a time when Shehure allowed himself to display that much anger before.

"When I went to visit her over the weekend, she…" Haru choked. "She told me it was over."

"What?"

"She dumped me. She wouldn't really tell me why, just said it wasn't working," His face crumpled, and Haru curled into his knees. His shoulders shook.

"I'm sorry, Haru," Huki said, patting his shoulder, and feeling sorry this was the only comfort he could offer.

"I wish we weren't cursed," spat out Haru.

"Me, too," whispered Huki. Suddenly he became aware of Hanadzima standing quite closely in front of them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lhoru was getting worried and I said I'd check." Hanadzima's face remained as impassive as ever.

"Go back to the others," said Haru, raising his head, "I'd like some time alone."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" asked Huki.

"Yeah, I won't lose it."

The trip back to the group at the opposite end of the gymnasium seemed eternal to Huki. His mind was torn between observing how gracefully Hanadzima walked, and wondering whether she overheard about the curse.

"Huki! Dzima!" Lhoru stood up, waving wildly. Nharu ran to Huki.

"Is 'Aru okay?" Nharu asked. "Should I go sei 'im?"

"Yes, he's fine, but he wants some time alone." Huki said. After Hanadzima left to talk with Lhoru and Zhula, Huki turned back to Nharu and muttered just loudly enough for the rabbit to hear. "Rin dumped him."

Nharu's eyes widened, but luckily he had the sense not to make a scene over the news in the gym. Lhadoman's face merely soured when Huki told him. The three boys sat together gloomily, forming a separate circle from the girls.

Zhula and Lhoru played cards as best as they could with flashlights, while Hanadzima pretended to watch. Truthfully, Hanadzima was keeping one eye—and her wave sensor—on the boys.

"So there is a curse on the Shoma boys," she thought. "That would explain the weird waves they give off. And the desire for freedom—they all want to be free from the curse." For the first time in a long time, Hanadzima actually felt as depressed as most people thought she looked. "I wonder if there are others? Poor Huki…" A collective groan of disappointment arose from the gym congregation as the wind rose again, dashing hopes of an end to the storm.

Mahalina stood guard in the hallway outside the gym doors with her other best friend, Eghu Dzasa. Dzasa, known for being the tiniest teacher in the school, stood a full foot below Mahalina's shoulder. She had started at Karori the same year as Mahalina, and the two had become fast friends.

"Don't smoke here, Sasa," halfheartedly rebuked Mahalina.

"Lina, honey, with that wind, my nerves need calming, and besides, you shouldn't scold when you don't mean it," smiled Dzasa, taking a deep breath. "Save your strength for those Shoma kids. Funny how you keep running into that family."

"Shit, don't remind me."

"Maybe you should have stayed with that writer after all? What was his name again?" Dzasa raised one black eyebrow. Every Friday, Mahalina and Dzasa would celebrate the end of the week by having alcohol-laced hot chocolate. The older woman would banish her husband from the house for the night, and the two women would then drink and talk. From the first, Dzasa had been intrigued by Mahalina's stories of her shadowy boyfriend.

"Shehure," smirked Mahalina. "Funny you should mention him. We first met during a terrible blizzard. Nothing like today, though."

"You know, the more I think about it," Dzasa said, her voice turning more serious, "the more I wonder how you could have fallen in love with the other one."

"Hathori," Mahalina automatically responded. Dzasa was famous for her inability to remember anybody's name, save her closest relatives and friends. Her students always complained at the beginning of the year, but they got used to it.

"Hathori sounds too boring for the likes of you. He's too much like the man Hana married…you know, that guy."

"Yeah, I agree that Denu is boring." Mahalina stopped, realizing she wasn't at all offended at Hathori being denigrated as wrong for her.

"If I recall correctly, your taste lies more in mysterious men with a touch of danger," smiled Dzasa, crunching her used cigarette against the door of the trashcan and then dropped it in.

"Sasa, movies aren't a good indicator of what kind of men you like," laughed Mahalina.

"Anyway, you always talked about Shehure much more often than Hathori. Do you even think about Hathori anymore?"

"Not really." Mahalina paused. "Well, only when I see Hana with Denu, and remember how happy she was with him, before she had the illness."

"I still don't understand why an illness made Hana break up with Hathori."

Mahalina didn't answer. She'd never told Dzasa about Hana's overwhelming guilt over Hathori's blinded eye, and her subsequent breakdown. The sight of Hana's emaciated face floated in front of Mahalina, and she blinked it away. She'd visited the Shoma estate only once while Hana was suffering the breakdown, and it'd been a painful visit. Back then, she still felt guilty about her crush on Hathori, and it was right after her breakup with Shehure. Shehure had warned her that visiting Hana wasn't a good idea, but she'd begged until he gave in. Come to think of it, it was the only time Shehure had actually comforted her, when she came out crying after seeing Hana.

"That bastard actually smiled nicely at me," Mahalina muttered to herself, shocked at the recollection. Shehure had dated her only to distract her from Hathori, or so he'd said.

"Mahalina?" Dzasa said, trying to regain her friend's attention.

"No, Shehure was never right for me," Mahalina said abruptly. "He never let me find out anything about himself, he wouldn't hug or kiss me, and our dates were farces!"

"Whatever you say," concurred Dzasa, with a knowing look.

Mahalina scowled. "Let's talk about something else."


	33. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.**

**Chapter 35**

Roof shingles torn off, some trees uprooted, and the occasional cracked window from flying debris—those were the only aftereffects of the harithe. And since it was not even a medium-strength harithe, life returned to normal in Lhasa very quickly.

The arrival of summer was finally becoming more evident as the days slowly grew warmer and the vegetation sluggishly assumed slightly greener tints. It rained often, and the nights were still cold enough to make the puddles freeze over. Lhasans were used to automatically skirting frozen puddles or walking carefully over them in the mornings. It would be a few more weeks before it would be warm both day and night.

One morning, when there was only three weeks of school left, Lhoru rushed to meet Zhula and Hanadzima at a cheap café. She'd been baking cookies for Haru; that was why she was late. The bag of cookies jostled in her hand with each stride she took.

Panting, Lhoru pushed the café's door open, jangling its bell loudly.

"Lhoru! Back here!" called Zhula from the back booth, where the three of them always sat.

"Hi! I'm so sorry I'm late!" Lhoru, still catching her breath, sat next to Hanadzima.

" 'I was vacuuming the carpet, I was cooking dinner a week in advance, I was washing Lhadoman's dirty underwear,' et cetera, et cetera," mocked Zhula. "Don't worry, it's cool with us. After all, Lhoru, those men you live with couldn't defend themselves against a dust bunny if they tried."

They all laughed. "Well, actually," said Lhoru, "I was baking cookies for Haru. I'm taking them to him after I leave."

"What, is Haru your boyfriend now?" gasped Zhula.

"No, Zhula, Haru was dumped by his girlfriend," corrected Hanadzima. "Remember what happened the day of the harithe?"

"Oh, yeah," mumbled Zhula, running a hand through her hair.

"He was extremely upset about it," said Lhoru. "I thought this might make him feel better."

"See what I mean? The Shomas couldn't live without Saint Lhoru," smiled Zhula. She yelled at the waiter, "Hey you! We want some service here!"

The girls ordered their favorite milkshakes, with Hanadzima requesting extra chocolate for hers. The sullen waiter departed after losing the battle of hostile glares to Zhula.

"I still got the stuff," announced Zhula proudly.

"You certainly do," agreed Hanadzima. "But next time let me summon him with my waves."

"Don't let your waves hurt him, Dzima!" exclaimed Lhoru.

"Of course not, I am not irresponsible," retorted Hanadzima.

"Relax, Lhoru, Dzima and I need to stay in practice to defend you from Huki's crazy admirers." Zhula took out a nail file from her purse.

"Let us move on to a more appropriate topic of conversation," suggested Hanadzima, seeing Lhoru squirm at the somewhat sadistic stream of talk.

"Yeah, I gotta tell you about this guy I met at the convenience store!" Zhula, her nail file forgotten, leaned closer towards her friends. "He kinda reminds me of Lhoru."

"He looks like her?" asked Hanadzima, intrigued.

"Nah, he looks totally different. I meant in her klutziness."

Lhoru admitted, "I'm not very graceful outside of the kitchen."

"Anyway, this morning, hang on—I gotta get this right," Zhula paused. She worked part-time at a convenience store, on Sundays and four days during the school week. "Okay, I was stacking the shelves, and this person with a huge pile of junk food in his arms comes around the corner into the aisle I was in. He had so many bags you couldn't see his face! I was like, 'What the hell is he doing? And does he actually eat that much crap?'

"I said to him, 'Sir, maybe you ought to use a basket,' and he didn't say anything for a second. Then I hear him go, 'Yes, of course, silly me. Thank you very much.' He bowed a little, and all the bags fell out of his arms!"

All three laughed. "It does sound like something I'd do," giggled Lhoru.

"Did you talk to him any more?" asked Hanadzima, when they'd recovered.

"Yeah, I did," responded Zhula. "He was kinda weird, but I liked him. He told me it was the first time he'd ever been to a convenience store, and he must've been in his early twenties! Can you believe that?"

"That is unusual," remarked Lhoru.

"You know what else was unusual? His looks," continued Zhula. "He was really thin, almost dainty, and tall. And he had red hair—not bright orange like Lhadoman, but a deep red."

"Auburn?" suggested Hanadzima.

"That's it! But get this—his name was Shoma Hatharu! What is it with Shomas and their exotic looks?"

"Another Shoma?" asked Lhoru excitedly.

"You know him?" Zhula queried hopefully.

"No, I've not even heard of him, but I can find out more."

"You like him, don't you, Zhula," stated Hanadzima, calmly sipping more of her extremely chocolatey milkshake.

"Yeah, no—well, I wouldn't mind seeing him again." For a minute Zhula's cheeks flushed a faint pink.

"I'll ask around when I go the Shoma estate!" declared Lhoru resolutely. Neither Lhoru nor Zhula noticed the worried look in Hanadzima's eyes.

"If Hatharu is another of the cursed ones…" thought Hanadzima. She'd been talking a lot with Huki lately, and he had finally told her about the family curse. Hanadzima was mildly surprised that Lhoru, who knew about the Shomas' problems with relationships, wasn't trying to discourage Zhula. Then again, Lhoru probably believed that becoming involved with outsiders was good for the Shomas.

"Dzima, wouldn't it be funny if I ended up with a Shoma boyfriend like you?" laughed Zhula.

"Huki's not my boyfriend, not officially, anyway."

"Aw, that's crap, and you know it! Both of you are just too introverted to come out in the open about dating," scoffed Zhula. "You ought to announce it at school—that would get Huki's fans in an uproar. They still think Lhoru's the one Huki likes. Don't worry, Lhoru, I'm sure Lhadoman will come around sooner or later, then we can all have Shoma lovers."

"Ah…" Lhoru blushed deep scarlet.

"Never mind," said Zhula quickly.

For the second time, the Shoma estate overwhelmed Lhoru. The first time was when Hathori the family doctor invited her, and he'd told her to get away from the Shomas. She'd learned the heartbreaking saga of Hana from Nharu.

"Uh-oh…" Lhoru snapped back to reality. "I don't know where Haru lives."

"Are you lost, ma'am?" A woman's authorititative voice cut through the cool air, echoing weirdly in the vast, empty courtyard. Lhoru saw a tall, thin brown-haired woman in a nurse's uniform. Her hazel eyes burned above sharp cheekbones. Those were her most distinctive features; otherwise she was quite plain.

"Yes, I am," said Lhoru, walking down the main path towards the woman. Normally Lhoru would be stuttering and turning red talking to a complete stranger, but underneath the burning eyes lay an aura of goodwill. The woman didn't look Hothan to Lhoru, and fleetingly Lhoru wondered if she was another Dzuni. "My name is Mileshi Lhoru…"

"Lhoru! Well, what do you know," chuckled the woman, "my boss said you would be showing up sooner or later!"

"Eh?"

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to be so familiar," the woman said as she bowed to Lhoru. "I'm Yuljat Karan. I'm the doctor's new nurse."

"Kadan?" repeated Lhoru. The name sounded totally incomprehensible and foreign.

"You can pronounce it 'Ka-raahn,' the Hothan way, if you want, and don't worry about my last name," said Karan. "You see, I'm from Zi Alda originally."

"You're not a Shoma? Then how did you get here—oh!" Lhoru gasped, thinking she had intruded too much on Karan's personal business.

"How, indeed," snorted Karan. "But you were looking for someone?"

"Yes!" responded Lhoru a little loudly, relieved at the change of subject. "I have some cookies for Shoma Hatsuharu, I know him from school."

"I'll show you to his parents' house," Karan said. "Just follow me. Someone could wander around this estate and die of thirst before they escaped." She turned down the path, walking with long, fast steps, forcing Lhoru to jog to catch up. The path branched off in three directions, the middle leading to the front door of the main building and the other two wending around its sides. Karan and Lhoru turned onto the left fork.

"Zi Alda is awfully far," offered Lhoru shyly. "It must've been hard." Her mind raced, trying to guess why Asheno had let an outsider into the estate.

Karan brushed the comment off with a casual, "Oh, I was so bored there." They were now walking side by side. Karan snuck a peek at Lhoru's confused look and smiled knowingly.

"My father was Zi Aldan," explained Karan quietly, so as not to be overheard by a few gardeners preparing the grounds for the spring cleanup, "but my mother was Hothan, and supposedly a distant relative of the Shomas. That's how Asheno justifies bringing me here, anyway." She observed Lhoru's head jerk at Asheno's name.

"You know Asheno?" asked Karan as the two emerged around the western corner of the main building and continued walking toward an enclave of houses set against the western wall.

"No, I've never met him," answered Lhoru, "uh…but I have heard about him."

"Heard about him, have you? I'm sure," retorted Karan.

"Did you meet him?" To Lhoru, the conversation was steadily growing too personal, but her curiosity overrode her manners.

"Yes, unfortunately," Karan frowned, and her eyes narrowed. "But I just pretended to be stupid, and went along with everything he said. So our meeting went fine."

Lhoru listened, fascinated. She opened her mouth to ask another question. At that moment, Karan stopped in front of one of the larger houses.

"This is where Haru's and Shehure's parents live," Karan said, and knocked on the door. No response. Karan tried again.

"Oh! I forgot!" gasped Lhoru. "Today is Saturday! The boys are at the martial arts center!"

"That would explain it, certainly. Zhu and Mathara are probably running errands," mused Karan. "Why don't you have tea with me? You came all the way out here, and I'd feel terrible if you didn't at least get a warm drink."

"I shouldn't keep you from your work. I can just return later," protested Lhoru weakly. In truth, Lhoru didn't want to leave and miss talking to Karan more, so she buckled easily when the nurse insisted.

Once again Lhoru entered Hathori's house. Nothing had changed, really, except for signs of improved housekeeping. The doctor was very neat in his office, but his living space showed signs of neglect. Karan must've set to work on cleaning it in her spare time.

"Hathori has told me you're good friends with some of the teenagers here," Karan said. "You don't mind my talking like this? It's my nature to be somewhat meddlesome, you see—caused me some social trouble in Zi Alda." She smiled mischievously. "It drove Father crazy. Zi Aldans are very disapproving of gossip and treat it like a great sin. They're being completely hypocritical, in my opinion." She rattled the dishes in search of the errant teapot. "Hoth is much better suited for me—the harsh winters helped turn gossiping into a national pastime. Now where's that damn teapot? Oh, right in front of me. No, you're my guest, Lhoru, sit down and relax. That's an order."

Lhoru reluctantly took a seat at the kitchen table, and accepted a slice of bread. She watched Karan alternate riffling through the cabinets and cursing the teabags for their audacity in hiding from her.

"My God, Hathori needs a wife," exclaimed Karan exasperatedly, "or at least a girlfriend. I've never seen him eat anything in this kitchen. It's no wonder it's impossible to find anything in here, the dust is so thick!" With a triumphal "Aha!", Karan finally pulled out two teabags.

"Do you live here?" Lhoru asked, after nibbling at a corner of her slice.

"Of course not—I'm interested only in talking gossip, not making it," laughed Karan, making Lhoru blush deeply. "My relationship with Hathori is strictly professional, although I don't know about Asheno's intentions." Out of the corner of her eye, Karan watched Lhoru's reaction very carefully. The teenager looked confused by the reference to Asheno. Obviously she didn't know enough about Asheno.

"Never mind," Karan said briskly, "if my father were here, he'd be telling me to be silent right now."

"I…don't know anything about Asheno, except he's head of the family," said Lhoru.

"You know something else about him, don't you?" thought Karan, noticing Lhoru's equally close watch on her. For a minute Karan pretended to work on the tea, debating whether she should try to dig additional information out of Lhoru. Asheno really gave Karan the creeps when she met him, and the Shoma family was so secretive. But what were they being so secretive about? Karan hoped it wasn't a crime family or a bizarre religious cult.

"Actually, they couldn't be a crime family, because no head as weak as Asheno would last," reasoned Karan. Finally she said out loud, "Well, Lhoru, it's fine that you don't know much about Asheno. But do tell me—are you acquainted with Hathori at all? He's been so busy lately, I haven't gotten to know him well." Karan had had the misfortune to arrive right after Asheno pushed some poor girl down an entire flight of stairs.

"Oh, I'm sure he's busy," responded Lhoru emphatically. "I heard Rin got hurt very badly."

"Is Rin the name of the girl Asheno pushed down the stairs?" Karan, instantly forgetting the tea, turned around.

"Asheno pushed her down the stairs?" echoed Lhoru, shocked.

Karan nodded. "But she's fine now," she hurriedly reassured Lhoru. "She got out of the hospital two days ago."

"That's wonderful," said Lhoru distractedly. She mused out loud, "I wonder if it was like Hathori and Hana."

The nurse stared at Lhoru, mystified. Lhoru felt the stare and looked up. She gasped when she realized what she'd said out loud. "I'm sorry!" exclaimed Lhoru, jumping up, the chair scraping on the floor. "Uh, I shouldn't be interfering in others' business! Thanks for the tea, Karan, but I have to go…um, to work, and I'll drop the cookies later today when Haru's back from martial arts! Bye!" Lhoru fumbled with the cookie bag and her jacket, and made her way out the door before Karan could stop her. The whistling teapot reclaimed Karan's attention, and she took it off the stove.

"This family gets worse and worse," sighed Karan. So something had happened between Hathori and Asheno in the past, an incident involving someone named Hana. Perhaps Asheno was the reason why Hathori was blind in one eye.

She'd only told Lhoru half the truth when she said Hathori had been very busy. He was actually in the office quite a lot, but he always kept her at a distance. He said "hello," "thank you," and the other obligatory pleasantries. Anything involving his life was apparently off limits. Whenever Karan ventured to ask him anything more personal, he always dodged by asking her to do another job.

Karan couldn't help noticing the unusual looks of some of the family members, including Hathori and Asheno. Privately, the nurse had to admit to herself that she'd caught many sneak peeks at Hathori's handsome face. Their ethereal beauty kept catching her off guard, and she found herself wondering _what_ they were, as opposed to _who_ they were. The old Zi Aldan stories about demons who would mingle with humans had resurfaced often since Karan arrived here. Her mother hadn't told her any Hothan stories; apparently she thought the Zi Aldan ones were better.

Pouring tea into a battered cup, Karan heaved another sigh. She wouldn't be bored in Hoth.

"How do I get Hathori to open up?" she wondered as she burned her tongue on the tea.

At that moment, all three teenagers under Shehure's care were elsewhere. Lhadoman was at martial arts training, and Lhoru had said she was going to meet her friends and visit Haru later on. Huki had been very vague about his plans, but he was gone, nevertheless. The house was silent, except for the rustling of papers as Shehure finally cleaned off his desk.

"Why am I bothering?" wondered the dog, cognizant that it was highly abnormal for a writer to be neat. The desk would only drown under a fresh onslaught in the next few days. Still, Shehure knew perfectly well why he wanted to clean his desk. The idea of finally calling Khazuma made him nervous. The freedom of the Dzuni could hinge on this call, and he wanted freedom from the curse more than anything else, yet there was no way to be certain it would even work.

As he shuffled the last pile of papers into order, he sighed and steeled himself. All the kids were out, and Lhadoman's training session should have ended a few minutes ago. This was the perfect time to call. Shehure sat down in his leather chair and reached for the phone. His hand pulled back suddenly as his ears picked up the sound of the front door opening.

"Damn!" he cursed in a whisper. "Who's there?" He couldn't keep his voice from sounding just a little tense and irritated.

"It's me," a low-pitched woman's voice called. A tall, svelte brunette walked towards Shehure's study, her calf boots tapping on the floor.

"Rin," acknowledged Shehure, not getting up from the chair. The last person he wanted to see right now. She wore her usual skin-tight clothing; even her black jacket hugged her torso well. Naturally, she had underdressed somewhat for spring weather. Her shapely legs were exposed in between the boots and the short dress she had on. Recovering bruises on her legs and face, still yellow, bore the only physical evidence of Asheno's attack.

"Shehure," Rin nodded her head, picking up on the unfriendly vibes from the dog.

"Congratulations on getting out of the hospital," said Shehure. "I'm glad you're better."

Rin shrugged. "Well, I couldn't possibly have been much worse than I was three weeks ago."

"What do you want?" The sooner he could get her out, the better. The more Shehure looked at Rin's defiant look and her ugly bruises, the angrier and sadder he became. He tapped a stray pen impatiently.

"Aren't we more direct than usual today," sarcastically observed Rin. "I see you cleaned your desk. You're up to something."

"And aren't we being incriminatory," mocked Shehure.

"You're not as smooth as you normally are." Rin's eyes narrowed. She shifted her weight, standing akimbo with one hand on her hip.

Shehure's restraint flew out the window. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but I don't happen to be in the mood to talk to the girl who caved in to a madman and dumped my little brother like a hot coal."

Rin's mouth gaped open, her hard façade immediately collapsing. Shehure winced inwardly, regretting his words. As he was about to apologize, Rin's mouth tightened and her fists clenched over her purse strap.

"Hypocrite," she declared coldly, her steely look reestablishing itself. "How dare you accuse me of being weak and cold-hearted, when every other Dzuni has done something similar. Did you denounce Hathori when he erased Hana's memories? Did you scold Hiro for abandoning Kisa after Asheno beat her to a pulp? And I have always doubted that woman you dated was merely a diversion for you."

"Mahalina's none of your business, Rin!" snapped Shehure. But the horse had hit a bulls'-eye deep in Shehure's heart. Shehure knew he was no less cowardly than anyone else in the Dzuni, where matters of love were concerned.

"Then why are you getting so upset?" Rin said smugly. Shehure glared at her, thinking once again how smart Rin was.

"Never mind that, let's get to what you want."

"Hmph, dodging my question, are you? Very well," acquiesced Rin. "I want to know how to break the curse."

"Why come to me?" He put down the pen, his mind on guard against whatever Rin might say. It was imperative to keep his plans as secret as possible.

"You're the one out of all the Dzuni who's most capable in searching for an antidote, and the one in the best position to do so. I'm not blind."

"Oh? How do you know I'd have any idea how to break the curse?"

"You have a plan, obviously." Rin's coldness was beginning to drop away, a pained earnestness slowly stepping in. "Haru, Huki, and Hathori all know you're planning something. Or they suspect it. There's the whole business of your taking in Lhoru, and you're the only one who could convince Asheno to let her stay. You're the only one devious enough to keep Asheno from getting suspicious for this long."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or not," Shehure finally responded. "It's certainly a glowing portrait you paint of me, Rin," he added bemusedly. "Shehure the Schemer." The dog leaned back on his right elbow onto his desk, appearing more relaxed. "Do go on, this is so very entertaining."

"Stop playing games with me and tell me what the hell is going on!" yelled Rin, stamping her foot.

"I'm watching a very pretty teenage girl get mad," smiled Shehure.

"Lecher." Rin's temper cooled. "I see I'll get nothing out of you today, so I'll stop wasting your time."

"What a shame." Please leave, Shehure mentally begged.

"Fine, then. Goodbye!" Wheeling about on one foot, Rin strode towards the entrance hall briskly. When she was out of sight, Shehure turned back to his desk, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Shehure." Rin's voice called from the front door.

"Yes?"

"For your information, I dumped Haru because I didn't want him to risk getting hurt by Asheno on my account." The door clicked shut.

For a long five minutes, the dog just slouched at his desk, his head in his hands. Slowly, like a tired old man, he straightened his back again. He reached for the receiver, picked it up, and dialed a number.

"Hello?" A strong male voice asked on the other end.

"Hello, Khazuma, it's Shehure."

"Oh, Shehure!" The voice perked up. "It's been a long time since we last talked."

"Listen, Khazuma, we need to talk about something important. Are Lhado or Haru there?"

"No, they just left," Khazuma replied, a little puzzled and definitely concerned by Shehure's tone.

"Good, I don't want anybody overhearing this."


	34. Chapter 36

ArmoredSoul: Yes, Khazuma is the martial arts teacher (like Kazuma from FB).

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! If you get confused about characters or places, feel free to ask :)

Disclaimer: FB doth not belong to me, nor doth anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 36**

The weather, apparently, was unaware that once school ended, it meant summer had arrived. The last day of school, the sun shone while everybody celebrated, students and staff alike. In an ornery turnabout, the next morning portentous dark grey clouds hung over Lhasa, and a steady, unrelenting rain poured all day.

"Lhoru, it's so dreary!" groaned Khagura. The pig had come to spend the night with Lhoru, and of course, to see her beloved Lhadoman. Once he freed herself from Khagura's suffocating hug, Lhadoman had taken the first opportunity to escape to his room and lock the door. Naturally, Khagura promptly kicked the door down and punched Lhadoman. Lhoru somehow pulled Khagura away. The two girls were now in the living room, watching a movie and eating Lhoru's best sweet cakes.

"I'm happy it rains here," Lhoru said through a mouthful of pastry. "I hear they often get droughts in Tsavo."

"Pooh, it'supposed to be summer!" huffed Khagura. Alarmed, Lhoru could see her friend's hot temper start to boil.

"I know! Why don't you cook Lhado some cookies?" Lhoru leapt to her feet too quickly and knocked over her drink. "I'll help!" Lhoru hastily added, when she remembered how dangerous Khagura was in a kitchen.

"Great idea! It might cheer up Lhado!" agreed Khagura enthusiastically. Then her face dropped suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Momentarily Lhoru's hand stilled in the process of wiping off the spill with several napkins.

"Nothing, just remembered something I need to buy later next week," lied Khagura. She'd forgotten Lhadoman only had a year left before Asheno locked him up in the small shack reserved for the cat. And most likely there would be nothing she could do about it.

As Khagura followed Lhoru to the kitchen, it occurred to her how strange it was that she had become good friends with her rival for Lhadoman's affections. Normally she'd have beaten any other girl down, but Lhoru accepted the family curse so easily. Khagura couldn't alienate a special outsider like her. She knew Lhoru probably loved Lhadoman, and for the first time, Khagura had the distinct feeling she was fighting a losing war. Her oldest sister, Falana, told her many times Lhadoman didn't return her feelings, and she'd never wanted to listen. Many a door had perished in Khagura's wake of destruction after a fight with Falana.

"Khagura? Khagura?"

The pig hugged her furry cat backpack closer to her chest. Falana was only trying to help her, but she'd been pursuing Lhadoman for so long that it was now an impulse as natural as drinking water.

"Khagura?" Finally she snapped out of her reverie, Lhoru's worried look coming back into focus. "Do you feel well? Can I get you anything?"

How could she hate someone as kind as Lhoru? "Uh, I feel pretty tired, actually," said Khagura. It wasn't far from the truth, either. "I think I'll lie down for a while, if you don't mind."

"Are you sick?" pressed Lhoru, her anxiety building.

"No, Lhoru," smiled Khagura weakly, in an attempt to ease her friend's fears. "I just need rest."

"Let me know if you need anything, all right?" Lhoru called after Khagura's back.

Khagura grunted in reply. She needed to leash her roiling emotions. Her temper had a shorter fuse these days.

"Khagura, you're a terrible liar," said Shehure.

"Eep!" squeaked Khagura, surprised by the sudden presence of Shehure next to her in the hallway. He looked down at her knowingly.

"You bastard," muttered Khagura. His antics were the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

"You've finally figured it out, haven't you?" Shehure asked gently, pityingly.

"That he doesn't l…" Khagura ran to Lhoru's room, as the sobs welled.

Once it arrived, night was almost indistinguishable from day, due to the rain. Everything outdoors merely assumed a darker shade. Khagura still took refuge in Lhoru's room, insisting on being left alone whenever Lhoru came to check on her. Finally, Lhoru had joined Huki and Lhadoman, who were watching television. The sight of the two boys sitting on the same sofa, albeit on the extreme opposite ends, without fighting, pleased Lhoru greatly. They were making progress—they'd started to exchange greetings voluntarily, although somewhat desultorily. Lhoru seated herself between the two.

"Lhoru, where's Khagura?" inquired Huki, fingering the collar of his red _ikhan_, a traditional thick Hothan cotton shirt.

"She's not feeling well," replied Lhoru.

"Fine, as long as she's not killing me," mumbled Lhadoman. Huki frowned pointedly at him, then the two went back to ignoring each other.

Outside the living room window, a dark figure huddled under an umbrella, watching the teenagers. The figure scurried over to the paved pathway as it felt its feet sinking into the drenched ground. Mud covered his shoes and the hem of his robe. However, he'd been too focused on how well Lhadoman was getting along with Huki—comparatively, anyway—to pay much attention to the rain and mud. For the first time he had a glimmer of hope that the drastic move he would make tonight would work. He knocked firmly on the front door.

"Hello, Khazuma, good to see you," said Shehure, opening the door. "Get in, it's a wet inferno tonight." His smile was strained, as was Khazuma's.

"How are you, Shehure?" asked Khazuma, sticking strictly to niceties to avoid the kids overhearing anything about his real reason for being here.

"Fine, fine," replied Shehure, reading Khazuma's signal perfectly. "We'll wash off your shoes later. First you must say hello to the kids and have some tea."

"Hey, Isho, is that you?" called Lhadoman from the living room.

"Hello, Lhadoman," said Khazuma with forced cheer.

"Shoma-mharu?" Khagura stood on the stairs in a loose robe, completely surprised. She didn't recall Khazuma ever coming to other Shoma houses; for his entire life he'd been interested only in Lhadoman and martial arts. "What are you doing here?"

"Khagura, it's been a while hasn't it?" It took great effort not to sweat visibly, especially since Khazuma could tell Khagura sensed something was wrong.

"Forgive me, I'm a little ill, and I must get back to bed." My gods, Khagura thought as she stumbled back upstairs in a panic, he's going to take off Lhado's bracelet! Asheno must have ordered Khazuma to do it to chase Lhoru away…Khagura flung open Lhoru's door, and collapsed onto her bed, crying hopelessly. Her barriers were breaking under the onslaught of too many emotional upheavals in one night.

Huki broke the atmosphere of puzzlement over Khagura's actions by saying, "Shoma-mharu, let me introduce you to Mileshi Lhoru." Lhadoman fidgeted, not wanting to seem overly happy to see his adoptive father around Huki.

For the first time, Lhoru had a good look at the legendary Shoma-mharu Khazuma. "Mharu" meant a master of martial arts, and had been affixed to his last name when he achieved the elite top level in training. Lhoru saw a solidly-built man, his muscles hidden by his plain forest green robe. He was just a little shorter than Shehure, though still fairly tall by Hothan standards. His ginger hair sported a few gray strands, but his sharply cut face bore no signs of wrinkles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Lhoru," said Khazuma, genuinely smiling and bowing slightly. "I've heard so much about you from Lhadoman." Shehure was amused to see a faint blush cross Lhadoman's cheeks.

"Oh, no, no, I'm honored to be in your presence," babbled Lhoru, bending over almost double.

"Sheesh, Lhoru, he's not the Emperor or anything!" yelled Lhadoman, pulling her back up by the shoulder. "He's just my martial arts master!"

"We've all known Shoma-mharu since we were little," added Huki. The rat's mind raced, trying to deduce why Shoma-mharu would be here now.

"W-well, it's wonderful to have you here," stammered Lhoru. "I'm so sorry, I should have gotten tea for you long ago. You must be freezing, after being out in the rain!" Without waiting for an answer, she rushed to the kitchen.

"Now, while Lhoru is making tea," Khazuma said, "I'd like to talk to Shehure. Just some business." The last part he inserted hastily, noticing the two boys' questioning looks. "Then we'll catch up, Lhadoman, ok?" Huki and Lhadoman nodded, and went their separate ways—Huki upstairs, Lhadoman back towards the television.

In Shehure's study, Khazuma seated himself on one side of the dog's beat-up sofa. Shehure joined him on the sofa after making sure the door was properly closed.

"I want to apologize in advance for anything nasty that happens tonight," said Khazuma in a half-whisper, as insurance against eavesdroppers. "The house may get a little messed up."

For a moment, Shehure found himself taken aback by Khazuma's words. "No, Khazuma, you don't need to apologize," said Shehure. "I'm the one who should apologize, I persuaded you to do this tonight."

Sighing, Khazuma only said, "I think Khagura guessed."

"I'll deal with her. Don't worry."

They sat in silence, pondering the events that were to unfold. Presently a knock sounded on the door.

"I have the tea," announced Lhoru timidly.

"Come in," called Shehure. Somehow Lhoru crossed the floor without dropping the tray or its contents, although it rattled considerably. She bowed and left quickly after setting the tea down on the scratched coffee table.

"This is quite possibly the worst room in the house," remarked Khazuma, gratefully sipping the scalding liquid. His view took in the mass of papers covering the desk, the computer with taped notes almost obliterating the screen, and books lying everywhere.

"I disagree," said Shehure. "Huki's is absolutely filthy. He never had any talent for housekeeping." The two men laughed briefly, and sank back to their own thoughts. When Shehure called Khazuma last week, it'd been a painful conversation. At least for Khazuma, anyway. He seriously doubted that Shehure's plan for freeing the Dzuni for the curse would work. It came from one tiny sliver of paper, of dubious origin. Besides, if personal demons formed the core of the curse, everybody in the world would be a Dzuni. However, both Khazuma and Shehure desperately wanted to end the curse, and both agreed it would do the family good to break out of its shell of secrecy and learn how to interact with the rest of the world. Lhoru, certainly, had contributed much to their hopes in that aspect.

Over the last few months, Lhadoman had been getting steadily more depressed, as he fell deeper in love with Lhoru and the time for his imprisonment grew closer. The stigma of the cat sucked him deeper into its vortex, and if something didn't happen soon, Lhadoman would become entirely unable to extricate himself from it. From his conversations with Shehure and Lhadoman's prompted descriptions, Lhoru's heart seemed large enough to cope with the cat's true form. Khazuma hadn't permitted himself to think about the possibility of failure until now. Tonight, he would rip off Lhadoman's bracelet in view of Lhoru, and let loose the monster. Lhadoman would be saved or broken forever. But if Lhoru could salvage Lhadoman, it might give him hope to fight against imprisonment when the time came.

A niggling voice in the back of his mind kept dragging Khazuma back to his dearest friends Reza and Hina, who owned an obscure bookshop in the Mhagenu neighborhood. Very nice mountain country folk, Reza and his wife—it was still a mystery to Khazuma how they ended in Lhasa. As a hobby, Reza studied mythology, and had stumbled onto references to the Dzuni curse in ancient tomes. As their friendship deepened, Khazuma took the plunge one day, and told them about the family curse. A little later, Reza said he'd found a cure for the curse, but it was so bizarre that both men had trouble believing its verity. Shehure's method seemed quite realistic by comparison. For now, Khazuma would merely see if at least Lhadoman could be helped.

"Well," Khazuma said decisively, standing, "it's time."

Shehure didn't respond.

"I'll do it on the back porch, if you don't mind."

Finally Shehure moved. "I'll see to Khagura and Huki."

Both men walked out of the study in silence. Shehure went upstairs, as Khazuma called out to Lhadoman and Lhoru.

"Yeah, what is it?" yawned Lhadoman. Lhoru walked in, still drying a plate.

"I'd like to talk to you together, out on the back porch."

"On the back porch? In this weather?" asked Lhoru, alarmed.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Lhadoman.

"Please, humor me," pleaded Khazuma, gathering his resolve. Lhadoman followed his master very cautiously, with Lhoru right behind, plate and towel in hand. The three congregated on the dry half of the porch against the house wall, where the wind hadn't blown the rain in.

Lhoru stood just inside the door, slightly farther apart from Lhadoman and Khazuma. The increasingly frightened look on Lhadoman's face made her anxiety increase exponentially, as Khazuma started talking.

"I'm sorry, Lhadoman," he began.

"What? What are you doing?" sputtered Lhadoman. A grain of the truth began to dawn on him, and he fought against it.

"You've been held captive by the cat for too long."

"No! I like it! I need to…"

"No, you are not happy. For far too long, you've been subjected to ostracism and talk about how horrible the cat is, when it isn't true at all. I don't want you spending the rest of your life in a dark cell, isolated from the rest of humanity!" Lhoru flinched with the force of Khazuma's last words.

"I hope you have the strength to free yourself, Lhadoman," whispered Khazuma. Lhadoman tried to dodge, but his master was too fast. Lhoru gasped as she saw Lhadoman's precious red and white bracelet suddenly hanging from Khazuma's fingers. The plate fell, splintering into large pieces on the floor, as Lhadoman screamed and contorted his body. In a nightmarish slow motion, Lhoru watched as human skin turned into a hard, smooth, brownish surface, his face turned into a triangular wedge with antennae and huge, perfectly round amber eyes, and his feet and hands morphed into oversized slabs with vicious claws. His legs bent double, almost like a grasshopper. An horrific stench filled the air. All the while, Khazuma watched the transformation grimly, glancing at Lhoru.

Overcome by the smell, Lhoru covered her nose with her hand, leaving her mouth open slightly for breathing. The creature that was Lhadoman turned his monstrous head towards her, and they locked eyes for a few seconds. Then with a screeching wail, Lhadoman clumsily leapt into the forest, out of sight.

Everybody watched the disfigured shadow loping away, including the only Dzuni besides Shehure to have seen the cat's true form. Khagura stood before the window, watching the rain hit the glass. So she had guessed correctly. Tonight would prove either the end of Lhadoman, or the beginning of a new life for him, depending on how Lhoru responded. Khagura was sure that Lhoru was his only hope for salvation now, not her. Once she'd fantasized about being his bride, and she'd told Asheno this, during a Dzuni banquet when she was six years old. Her strongest impression from that particular memory was of Asheno's loud laugh. Laughing at her pathetic dreams, or rather, her pathetic self.

The rain intensified. Khagura secretly prayed Lhoru would save Lhadoman, and if she could, Khagura would be happy to lose Lhadoman to a wonderful person like Lhoru. And Khagura would support them when Asheno threw the inevitable fit. She sighed, and crawled back into bed. She lay awake, waiting for the final outcome.

"What is she thinking?" yelled Huki, a moment after Khagura went to bed. "Lhoru will get hurt if she follows him!" He moved towards the door, but Shehure stopped him.

"No, Huki, we need to let them alone." The rat stared at his guardian in amazement and horror.

"B-b-but," sputtered Huki, "I had no idea the cat's true form was that dangerous." He'd never seen Lhadoman in his monster form before, although he had listened to Asheno's rantings and the servants' countless stories about the dreadful cat his entire life.

"Do you honestly think the cat's dangerous by nature?" asked Shehure, irritated.

"Well," breathed Huki. Lhadoman had always been a hot-tempered, combative idiot, but he'd never been outright dangerous. "No, I guess." Huki fell silent, and observed Shehure's sharp profile standing in stark contrast to the darkness outside. Hope and fear mingled in his countenance. A roll of thunder made the ground vibrate jarringly.

"You planned this, didn't you?" hissed Huki coldly.

"Yes." The affirmation came out unabashedly. The old suaveness seemed to be slowly returning. Shehure turned back from the backyard to Huki. Lightning flashed, momentarily making everything look black.

"Did you ever take Lhoru or Lhadoman into account? This could destroy them!" Anger welled in Huki, thinking of how heartbroken Hanadzima, and he also, would be if Lhoru were to be killed.

"And they could free us," shot back Shehure, trotting leisurely to the door with his old swagger. "You're a prisoner of Asheno, like Lhadoman, aren't you, Huki?" He scoffed. "You just happened to be the rat instead of the cat." The door slammed shut between them, blocking Huki's confounded look from Shehure's view.

Shehure strode down the hallway with hard steps. His sharp nose told him Khagura was still in Lhoru's room. Good, she was staying put; she wouldn't cause any trouble right now. In reality, Shehure's confidence in the curse being broken was shakier than he revealed to Huki. He mentally kicked himself for blurting the part about being freed to Huki. Ah, well, there was time enough now; he could explain it to Huki and make him keep it a secret later. Huki could be trusted.

Lhoru knelt over a protuberant tree root, retching. The cadaverous smell clung to everything Lhadoman passed, like wet clothing to skin. She had to follow the smell; it was the only trail left behind by Lhadoman. The thunder boomed, making Lhoru scream. She gasped, catching her breath. Her entire midsection felt crushed by the vomiting and the effort required to run through a thick forest. She looked all around her, as best as she could in the rain. Luckily, the tree canopy softened the rain somewhat, but not by much. One of her shoes had come off long ago, and the other was covered in mud. Scratches from thorny plants and tree bark covered her legs and arms.

How far did the forest extend? Lhoru had no idea, and realized she was lost. She'd never been this far back in Shehure's forest before, even while she was unknowingly camping out on his property. All she'd been thinking about was how scared she was of the thing Lhadoman had turned into, while simultaneously sensing that he might never come back if no one went to get him. For the first time, a foreign emotion made itself known to her: anger. Why was this happening to Lhadoman? Why did the family, with a few exceptions, insist on treating him as an outcast? What could possibly justify such horrible treatment?

Lightning crackled somewhere above the treetops, and Lhoru's ears picked up a slight rustle. She knew there were wolves in the forests on Lhasa's periphery. Plenty of stories existed about people in the woods going missing, then their gnawed bones being found later. Taking a deep breath as carefully as she could, she began running again, following the awful smell.

The length of time between thunderclaps and lightning began to increase, the sounds of both becoming more muted. Finally, Lhoru noticed the smell was getting stronger, instead of remaining at the same intensity as it had been for a long time. She slowed down, fears of wolves fading. She walked slowly forward, panting, thankful the rain was starting to stop. Water dripped steadily from her ripped dress, completely soaked. Her sweater wasn't in much better shape. Two large trees stood in her path, and in between them she could see a very small glade, where a large reddish stone nestled in the center. It was pitted in the middle, and it might once have been a shrine to the forest, long ago. A strange sense of peace enveloped the place—a peace out of context with the situation.

Lhoru's quarry sat hunched, its back against the stone. He didn't notice her; his head was downcast and buried within the folds of his limbs. The smell pervaded the glade, like a conscious, malicious presence. Breathing through her mouth, Lhoru wondered helplessly what to do next. She peered uncertainly through the trees, undecided. Her feet moved forward of their own account, and she squeezed between the trees, stepping into the squishy floor of the glade.

"What are you doing here!" roared Lhadoman. An oversized paw flew out, and Lhoru gasped. Then her right cheek started throbbing, and a warm liquid oozed down her face onto her neck and shoulder.

For a moment the creature examined its paw, distressed, then looked back at a stunned, bleeding, and badly frightened Lhoru. "Get back before I end up hurting you worse, or killing you," he ordered, backing away on all fours.

"No, no!" cried Lhoru, propelling herself forward. "Please don't go!" Grabbing his foreleg, she clung to it desperately, sobbing. "I-if you l-l-leave, I'll be s…sad." The smell bore down on her more heavily than ever, threatening to crush her delicate body.

"Do you really mean that?" Lhadoman was tired of women pretending to love him; nobody in their right minds would want the cat to remain alive. "My mother said stuff like that to me, and then she shot herself!" Lhoru, tears still streaming, raised her head.

"She lied to me and said she loved me, but she was scared shitless of my true form!" continued Lhadoman. "She checked my wrist every five minutes to make sure I still had that fucking bracelet on, and she never let me leave the house—ever! She even got nervous when I went near windows! My old man hated me and hit me whenever he had to see me. At Mom's funeral, everybody said I was better off dead! Even Khazuma took me in because Asheno paid him to!"

"That's not true!" Lhadoman stopped at Lhoru's abrupt interjection. "I saw the look on Khazuma's face," Lhoru said earnestly. "He was so worried about you, Lhadoman. I'm sure he didn't raise you for the money." She looked into the wide, bug-like orange eyes. They seemed so alien, but they had distinctly human emotions, like despair.

Lhoru's mouth worked, and words slowly emerged. "I…I'm scared of you right now," she admitted. "I don't know anything about this true form, or anything about the Dzuni curse, really." Too much was still unexplained about the curse. "But I have seen how painful it is for all the Dzuni I've met so far. I'm, I'm sure I could never completely understand what a terrible burden it is." She started sobbing again, and didn't wince when Lhadoman put a paw around her shoulders. "But you and the Dzuni have been wonderful to me, the only real family I've had, besides Dzima and Zhula. I-I-I," she hiccupped, then regained her voice, "I want to be able to keep talking to you and seeing you, and making dinner for you, and help you with this curse…I'm mad at the curse, too, for making you suffer…" She hugged Lhadoman around the neck, and he returned the hug, crying as well.


	35. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything else you recognize is also not mine.

**Chapter 37**

"You said seeing his true form would chase that girl away," growled Asheno, snapping out "that."

Shehure merely shrugged his shoulders. Privately, he knew his hour of reckoning had arrived. The Dzuni god slouched in his chair, fuming, all the blood rushing to his face and filling it with an unusual amount of color. As long as Asheno remained seated, Shehure would be safe from projectiles. For now, the dog decided it was wisest to remain still and take Asheno's verbal knives.

"You," said Asheno accusingly, straightening up, "you convinced me it was a good idea, and I assented. I trusted you, and Lhadoman becomes her boyfriend! That girl's BOYFRIEND!" His fist crashed down onto the armrest.

"Uh-oh," thought Shehure. "He's already started shrieking." He started to take stock of all the potential weapons within Asheno's reach, while keeping his expression blank.

"You insubordinate dog, Haku!" There was a strange light around Asheno's head, like a halo, and he looked fuzzy.

Shehure's response was inaudible.

"Haku! Haku! HAKU!" The frustration in Asheno's voice increased. The room's contours began to twist, forming a tunnel bordered by blackness. Everything shriveled and vanished down the tunnel…Somewhere, a loud slap could be heard, and the sound echoed in the now empty space.

"What is wrong with that boy?" Asheno asked to no one in particular, looking down at a prone, unconscious Haku being shaken by Hotohori. "The doctor couldn't find anything wrong with him. Maybe I should get a psychologist in here."

Hotohori was quick to interject. "Haku's not insane. He's just…under a lot of stress." Hatsuharu joined the two on the floor, calling to Haku. Khosure, Lhurone, Khezuke, and another teenager, a newcomer from Rhenigroth named Hatsumi, watched worriedly from their seats at the table.

"You mean to say because of me, right?" sneered Asheno. Hatsuharu glared at him. Asheno let it go and contemplated his ward, finally beginning to stir. He didn't think Haku was insane, either. Haku was still well enough to resist Asheno and to hide his symptoms whenever the doctor came. If it had been otherwise, Asheno would've known something was really wrong. But Haku's odd behavior had been steadily grating on Asheno's nerves more as time passed. In the two weeks since school had ended, Haku ate and slept well enough (albeit with much tossing), but he sweated profusely, as if afflicted with a fever. His eyes had a distant, delirious look most of the time. It was impossible to get his attention, and everybody at the table, plus Rhena, had tried various ways to snap him out of the trances. Purple shadows under his eyes and his thin frame attested to the strain his mysterious illness put him through. And when he holed up in his room, he would always be drawing, as though under hypnosis. In his rare lucid moments, he wouldn't say anything about what was plaguing him! Asheno suspected that the other teenagers had some idea, but of course, they would never tell him. They stuck together against him.

As Haku blinked and came to, Asheno realized Haku was finally seeing him for real. The dark brown eyes, the old antagonistic expression reserved for Asheno fully restored, were fixed on Asheno's face, and not at an invisible object in the distance.

"Asheno," said Haku.

"Haku, are you all right?" asked Hatsuharu, for lack of a less ridiculous question to ask someone so obviously ailing. A tiny hope began to grow that Haku's illness had finally broken.

"Yes, miraculously," muttered Haku, his voice faint and cracked. His friends, Asheno, and the surrounding environment slipped in and out of a bluish haze. "I feel so exhausted…" He sat up, propped by Hotohori and Hatsuharu.

"Have you finally returned to the real world for good?" Asheno queried.

"I need sleep…" repeated Haku. His head felt weighed down with rocks; it wobbled slightly on his neck.

"Very well," acquiesced Asheno. "Take him to bed, Hatsuharu. He can catch up when he's rested."

For once, no one argued with Asheno's order. Hatsuharu obliged and carried Haku in his arms up to the cluttered room. The mountains of paper with scribbles and drawings rustled under Hatsuharu's feet, and Hatsuharu wondered once again what Haku had been doing. He'd not looked carefully at the drawings, under the assumption they were only reflections of a feverish mania. He settled Haku gently on the bed, and Haku had his first visionless sleep in two weeks.

Haku slept until the middle of the next afternoon. Hunger pangs woke him at last, and he threw on the least smelly of his hekashos and stumbled to the main kitchen in search of sustenance.

"Haku!" Rhena, of course. She'd been chopping meat for tonight's dinner, and she set the carving knife down upon seeing Haku's entrance. "Are you feeling better? The other children told me about last night."

"I'm really hungry," said Haku. "Could you make me a big breakfast, Rhena?" His request delighted Rhena; it was the first time he'd willingly asked for food. She wasted no time in heating a healthy amount of leftovers from the previous night's dinner. Haku sat on a stool by the baking counter, across from the carving table.

"Shit," thought Haku, "I need a shower so badly." With mild disgust, he recollected the neglected state of his room and clothes. He attempted to regain his bearings; he'd long lost track of time's passage and stopped noticing his everyday surroundings. The kitchen seemed dark and strange, even with the windows wide open and the sunlight streaming in through them.

"This is near the place Rin was beaten," he remembered, then quickly evicted the disturbing memory from his train of thought. The scent of bread, meat and fresh fruits made his stomach growl. "Rhena, what day is it?"

"It's Tuesday, Haku," she replied, stirring batter vigorously. "The 21st of June. It's been two weeks since you got sick, and you only came out of it last night."

"Sick?" Haku began to correct her, but decided against it. He needed to reestablish his grounding again, first. "Where's everybody?"

"Have some of this bread," Rhena said, pressing a large slice into his hand, "I'm almost done heating the leftovers. Everybody's here, at the estate." She began scooping a meat casserole onto a plate, and added some freshly cut fruit. Haku had already tore through half his slice when Rhena set the plate and a glass of milk next to him.

"By the way, Haku," she added in a quiet voice, "a new Dzuni has arrived here."

"Whomph?" asked Haku, muffled by a large mouthful of still-savory casserole.

"His name's Hatsumi. Oh, dear, I can't remember his last name for the life of me." Rhena's stirring tempo slowed, as she tried to recall. For the first time in Haku's life, she didn't nag him to show better table manners.

"Ah, you're up, Haku," remarked a calm bass voice from the doorway. Haku stopped slurping his milk and looked at the voice's owner. Immediately, Haku recognized him as the sheep, a taller and filled out version of Shoma Hiro. Hiro had been a little brat. Clever, but a brat, nonetheless.

"I'm Rhenuth Hatsumi," the teenager said, walking towards Haku. His clothes were worn and very casual, but in decent enough shape. His hair was the same sort of light brown as Hiro's, and his eyes just as large and wide. "I'm from Rhenigroth." His smile was pleasant, yet guarded, and gave Haku a distinct impression of toughness. Hatsumi had faced difficult times before. "I arrived here a week after you took ill." Yet, observed Haku, Hatsumi spoke quite well.

"Your guardian spotted me on the street in downtown Lhasa," continued Hatsumi, "and made me ride back here with him. I've seen some bizarre things, but I never expected to be part of a mystical family curse." One side of his mouth curved derisively.

"What bizarre things?" asked Haku, resuming his breakfast with slightly better table manners.

"Hatsumi don't like talking about his past much," Rhena said, pouring yellow batter into a muffin tray. "I've already tried."

"It's as Rhena says," agreed Hatsumi. "Besides, you wouldn't want to know." His face went blank.

"Fine with me," shrugged Haku. "We all have things like that, don't we?" Funny, thought Haku, his physique's similar to Hatsuharu's and Khezuke's. I wonder if there's a pattern? Faran-Zhuku said there was a special group inside the Dzuni for protection, or something.

"I just came here to pick up an afternoon snack," Hatsumi said to Rhena, to escape his discomfort from Haku's critical look.

"Have some of the fruit," Rhena said, concentrating intently on pouring the right amount of oil for the meat.

"Thank you," Hatsumi grabbed an apple, and left after nodding to Haku. The wolf boy resumed eating, wondering whether Hatsumi struck him as more like a fighter or an aesthetic.

"Rhena, could I have an extra clean hekasho? I need to do laundry," asked Haku ten minutes later, when his ravenous appetite had finally been sated.

"Of course, I'll leave it on your bed, while you take a shower," she said, giving him a stern look. "You need one."

The rest of the afternoon was consumed by the gargantuan task of clearing up his room, so clogged by paper that it was basically unlivable. Haku refused help from anybody—he didn't want people seeing the drawings up close until he decided what to do with them. For now he piled them into boxes, and stacked the boxes in his closet. His energy was still depleted, and the cleanup work sapped most of it. He was asleep when Hatsuharu came to summon him to dinner.

"Haku," called Hatsuharu, shaking him awake. Haku opened his bleary eyes.

"Wow, I didn't have any visions, again," murmured Haku, slowly raising himself into a sitting position. Dizziness was still a problem if he moved too quickly.

"I'm glad," Hatsuharu muttered, his arm poised if Haku started to fall.

"The ghost wolf must've exhausted himself, too," theorized Haku, "going for two straight weeks like that."

They walked slowly down the stairs. "Listen," whispered Hatsuharu, "Asheno will be at dinner." Haku groaned softly.

"No, he's not going to attack you," quickly reassured Hatsuharu. "He's going to tell you what he told the rest of us last night. I'm just warning you—it's a little weird."

Haku only nodded, and they entered the dining room. It was one of the regular dining areas, not the hall used for the New Year Dzuni's banquet. In the center was a dark, rectangular mahogany table, large enough to seat ten. Asheno sat at the head, and he gestured for Hatsuharu to seat Haku at the opposite end. The prospect of facing an entire meal sitting across from Asheno was distasteful, but Haku still felt a little weak for putting up a fight.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Haku," Asheno said, smiling acidly. "We're so glad you condescended to rejoin us."

"Hi, Haku!" piped Khosure, unfortunate enough to be at Asheno's right.

"Shut up!" snapped Asheno. Khosure shrank into his chair. "You may begin serving the food," Asheno said, snapping his fingers. A young serving girl entered with an oversized tureen of vegetable soup, her arms shaking slightly from the weight. She managed to safely place it next to Asheno, and fled gratefully.

"Servants," huffed Asheno. "And why did they use such a monstrous dish? Khezuke, pick it up, would you? I can't possibly lift this."

Silence dominated throughout the soup, broken only by Haku's occasional slurping, which earned raised eyebrows from Asheno. After the main dish, a delectable roast with a white wine sauce, was served by another frightened servant, Asheno finally spoke.

"Haku," he began, "since you were kind enough to faint last night, you missed my speech to the Dzuni about my plans for the summer." Haku concentrated on cutting his slice and not looking at his guardian's face, and the other Dzuni followed his example.

"I shall be plain, as I was with the rest last night," continued Asheno, chewing a small bite serenely. "My intent is to finish gathering the remaining six before the New Year. As you know, I am aware of the whereabouts of all but one."

"Which one?" Haku asked.

"It doesn't matter, I shall find out soon enough."

"Isn't this the same one you've been having trouble finding for a long time?" pressed Haku.

"Why, pray tell, are you so interested in this particular person's case?" Asheno set his utensils down.

"If we knew who it was, we could watch out for him," Hatsuharu explained quickly, to defuse the building tension.

Unconvinced, Asheno let the question go. He looked hard at Haku. By now Haku had raised his head, and returned the suspicious look. He wouldn't put it beyond Asheno to be lying—the Dzuni could be dead, or something similarly horrible had occurred.

"Anyway, as I was about to say," resumed Asheno, sipping his coffee and addressing the entire group again, "I will need your help in retrieving some of these Dzuni. Three of them won't arrive until the fall, after the school year begins. It's more convenient for their families, and I've graciously agreed." Everyone else grimly wondered if the three even had real families, based on the experiences they'd had thus far.

"Last night, Haku, I told the children that I would ask a few of you to escort two of the girls back to this estate this summer."

"What, are you planning to have us kidnap them?" Haku said sarcastically.

"I am in the process of contacting their families now," Asheno went on icily. "One lives in Lhose, and the other comes from the Gashuni district, on the western side of Lhasa."

"The same district as Lhoru," mumbled Haku, finishing the last bite of his meat.

"What?" yelled Asheno. The teenagers jumped all at once. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"Eh?" Haku froze, feigning fatigue and haziness. _Damn you_, he scolded himself, _Asheno's suspicious enough already!_ Before the prolonged period of visions, it'd occurred to Haku that if Asheno ever found out how much Haku was learning about the previous Dzuni, he could murder Haku if he felt threatened enough. A new, non-threatening baby would replace Haku then. The less Asheno knew, likely the safer he would be.

"How'd you learn that name?" demanded Asheno, standing up.

"What? I'm sorry, I'm still tired," apologized Haku. "I was just thinking about what I need to do, like finish cleaning my room and getting myself healthy again."

"Yes, I've heard Haku talking to himself some," added Hotohori. The rest of the Dzuni stared at Asheno in astonishment. Their head was frightened, a rare sight.

Sensing the eyes upon him, Asheno recomposed himself, only with great effort, and seated himself again.

"Haku." He couldn't let that dog off easily, not just yet. "Tell me about the ghost wolf. I know you're connected to it somehow."

A tense standoff ensued between Asheno and Haku, each measuring the other. Now he had to give Asheno some scrap about Faran-Zhuku, Haku knew.

"I do not transform into a wolf," Haku finally said. "But there is a phantom wolf that comes out of my body. I don't have any control over it—it comes and goes when it pleases."

A look of disbelief crossed Asheno's face. "I know it sounds incredible," Haku said, "but it's true."

"Is this the same thing that killed those servants?" asked Asheno. "Did you order it to?"

"I told you already, I have no control over the phantom," reiterated Haku. "It killed the servants, but I had nothing to do with it."

"Do you expect me to believe something as wild as that? Are you trying to insult me?"

"No, Asheno. Is it so strange a ghost wolf would pop out of my body, considering how none of the Dzuni have turned out the way you expected? Judging by your reaction to us, it seems you expected something different from the curse." Haku kept his voice as controlled as he could, and felt gratified when Asheno winced almost imperceptibly at the last part. He'd hit one of Asheno's weakest spots. None of the Dzuni missed Asheno's reaction.

"I'll ask you again: do you have any control over that thing?" asked Asheno angrily.

"No. As a matter of fact, I think the reason I was so sick was because the ghost and I are having trouble living in the same body." It wasn't far from the truth, either. Even Asheno was forced to conclude Haku's response made sense.

"That's enough for one night. You're all dismissed," said Asheno. The Dzuni stood up, bowed quickly, and left the dining room.

Asheno slumped in his chair. Of all things, a phantom wolf killing willy-nilly! One that could easily kill Asheno. Fleetingly, Asheno entertained the idea of poisoning Haku. It could be accomplished, but it left him with the problem of dealing with a replacement, which in all likelihood, would have a ghost wolf, too. Even if he killed Haku, how could he know the ghost wouldn't kill him in retaliation, on its own? Where had the wolf come from? Was the old curse back? No, he would bide his time. He'd managed to get Haku to reveal some niblets of truth—he was sure Haku was telling the truth, he was terrible at lying—and he certainly would pry more out of the boy later on. Haku was probably just as afraid of being killed by Asheno as Asheno was by him; it'd serve as a counterbalance in their relationship for now.

In a deep recess of Haku's mind, the phantom cursed Haku heartily. The stupid child had put himself in mortal danger by blabbing to Asheno! Luckily Faran-Zhuku could exit Haku's body at will; he'd be able to watch for any murder attempts. The ghost wouldn't hesitate to kill to keep Haku alive. It was too important to set the Dzuni on the correct path again. He would rest a while longer, and regain his strength. Then he'd finish telling Haku the epic he'd begun two weeks ago.

"Haku, are you still delirious?" scolded Hatsuharu. "I thought you said you had to keep Faran-Zhuku a secret from Asheno!" The teenagers all crowded into the room Khosure and Lhurone shared.

"Shh! Keep your voice down, or the servants—or Asheno—will hear!" hissed Haku. "I couldn't stall any longer," he continued whispering vehemently, "I had to tell Asheno something."

"Are you going to tell Asheno about the visions?" Hatsumi asked.

"How'd you know—oh, the others must have told you."

"I felt he needed to know, so I filled him in," Hotohori explained to Haku. "By the way, Haku, were you just having visions for two entire weeks?"

"Yeah, I was," nodded Haku. He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"What about?" asked Khosure.

"Oh, about the generation when the Dzuni curse was 'broken,'" Haku said, straightening up and leaning against Khosure's dresser. "But Faran-Zhuku never got that far, to when the curse was actually broken. He wants me to know every tiny detail." Haku rolled his eyes. "Clearly there's some complicated process by which it happened. I don't know how we fit in yet, or how Asheno got control of us."

"That name you mentioned at dinner?" asked Hatsumi. "Lhoru? Why'd it scare Asheno?"

"I slipped," said Haku. "Lhoru was an outsider who was taken in by the family. Hm, I guess I could say she helped the Dzuni open up more. Maybe she broke the curse, if Faran-Zhuku ever gets that far. And going back to your question, Hatsumi, no, I won't tell Asheno about the visions. It's too early, and it's not safe enough yet."

"Safe?" Hatsuharu said.

"What I know is dangerous to Asheno," said Haku, "but I don't know why."

"Let me clarify for you, Hatsuharu," said Lhurone. "In gang culture, when someone knows a story that could implicate a person in a crime, the witness gets eliminated before he can testify." Khosure gasped, and everyone looked at Haku. "It's something like that, isn't it, Haku?" Lhurone asked gently.

"Yes," admitted Haku. "I do think Asheno is too afraid of the ghost to kill me, though. At least for now."

"Good heavens," breathed Hatsuharu.

"You've been around Rhena too long," smiled Haku. They all chuckled, and the stress lightened. Lhurone offered some excellent mimicries of Rhena's plain speech. Khezuke's scars turned a darker purple from laughing. They'd finally healed completely, although they would always give strangers the false impression of a hardened criminal.

When the gaiety faded, the mood of gravity returned.

"Haku, what kind of animal am I supposed to be?" asked Hatsumi. "Do you have any idea?"

"A sheep, or a ram, since you're a guy," responded Haku. "As for your 'powers,' I wouldn't know."

"A ram, hmm?" Hatsumi contemplated the thought.

"Everybody…" The others swiveled their heads towards Hotohori's hesitant voice. "There may be a possibility that the Dzuni were like us, before the curse started."

"What do you mean?" asked Haku. "Faran-Zhuku once said something similar."

"I found this ancient bookshop," Hotohori said, dropping her voice even lower, forcing everyone to strain their ears. "The woman who owned it, Hina, had paintings, incredibly old paintings from before the dark ages, and I saw two of them. One was of a scarlet dragon, just like when I transformed, and another that looked like Faran-Zhuku. I was there only twice before Asheno forbade us to leave without his permission. I'm sorry I kept this secret from you, but I didn't want anyone else to get punished if Asheno found out." The boys immediately waved off Hotohori's apology.

"And there's something else," Hotohori continued, "Hina knew a member of the Shoma family, someone who had a cursed child."

"Who?" asked Haku. The name Hina sounded very familiar to him.

"I think his name was Shoma Khazuma, if I remember rightly. Hina said her husband found the cure to the curse and passed it on to Khazuma."

"Well," Haku started slowly, after a long moment processing the news. Now he remembered Khazuma—the man who'd taken in Lhadoman, the cat, when no one else would. "We'll have to find a way to get to the bookstore, when school starts again. It'll be easier to slip from Asheno then. And don't worry about Asheno punishing people, Tori, he does it all the time, whether or not a fair reason actually exists. He enjoys it too much." A summer breeze blew in through the open window, carrying the fresh smell of still-new greenery along.

"The plot thickens," remarked Hatsumi drily. The teenagers huddled in a companionable silence, pondering the new developments.


	36. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything else you recognize is also not mine.

**Chapter 38**

Asheno wasted no time in sending a contingent of Dzuni on a mission to retrieve one of their number. The next day, he ordered Hatsuharu, Khezuke, and Hatsumi out to the Gashuni district. As the chauffeur drove, all three boys were looking out the window.

"I used to live here," said Khezuke quietly.

"Looks like a decent enough place," remarked Hatsumi. "A little run down in some spots, though." From the tidbits he'd heard about Lhasa, every neighborhood (except Mhagenu, of course) had gone slightly downhill since the economy slid into a depression three years ago.

Hatsuharu shook his head. "Not nearly as run down as Ghunene. It's hell there." The memory of the shack Khosure once called home depressed Hatsuharu's spirits even more. He frowned, observing the heavy clouds blanketing the sky. A gloomy, oppressive humidity pressed down upon the city. With an instinctive caution, Hatsuharu calculated the risks of a harithe, despite its being out of season. No, it would be just rain, no wind.

Finally, the sedan stopped in front of a two-story concrete townhouse, beginning to show dilapidation from age. A policeman, distinctive in the yellow uniform, stood in the open doorway, talking to an agitated middle-aged woman.

"Damn, I hope this doesn't involve…Shidora," Hatsuharu finished after reading the name again on a slip of paper. "Let me get out first. Wait here."

"Are you from the Shoma estate?" The woman immediately asked, after seeing Hatsuharu leave the ornate car. Only a Mhagenu resident could afford such a vehicle.

"Yes, I am." Hatsuharu nodded to the officer, who bowed to the woman and left.

"What was that about?" queried Hatsuharu. "You are Mrs. Shumura, I assume?"

"Shidora ran away again," Mrs. Shumura said, clasping and unclasping her hands. The repeated motion distracted Hatsuharu greatly. "She does it quite often, and the police are used to it. They just keep an eye out for her whenever we call them." Mrs. Shumura said it so matter-of-factly, that Hatsuharu had difficulty believing her at first.

"But to run away today of all days!" Mrs. Shumura sighed, with the air of a woman exasperated with a fickle house cat. "There are special circumstances this time," she explained to a disgusted Hatsuharu, "Shidora became quite upset when we told her this morning she was leaving, and that we'd only taken her in for the money. Life is harder these days, but I'm sure you wouldn't know that, being one of the overprivileged—"

"Thank you, Mrs. Shumura, for taking care of Shidora," interrupted Hatsuharu coldly and formally. "I assure you, the family is very grateful, and we'll take care of Shidora from now on. You won't have to be concerned about her anymore."

"Will we get the final check soon?" she asked.

Hatsuharu ignored the question and yelled to the waiting car, "Hatsumi, Khezuke, will you get Shidora's stuff into the car?"

They left as soon as they stuffed the last of Shidora's bags into the overflowing trunk, glad to leave the callous Shumuras behind.

"I don't think they were even that poverty-stricken," whispered Khezuke, when he shut the car door behind him. "Their furniture looked really comfortable."

"Ha, we know what they spent Asheno's money on," replied Hatsuharu bitterly. "In any case, we need to find Shidora. Our esteemed head said she was a tiger, so she's supposed to have a yellowish-orange hair."

"She'll stick out enough, if we can figure out where to look," said Hatsumi, balancing a battered brown leather suitcase on his lap.

"Shidora usually stays within the Gashuni area whenever she runs away, apparently," Hatsuharu said, scanning the streets and alleys as the car passed by. "That was the only useful information that woman had to offer." The first raindrops splashed on the windows, and quickly progressed into a heavy downpour.

"I hope she's got shelter," murmured Khezuke, his forehead furrowed.

Hatsuharu pressed the intercom button. "Slow down, please, Lonisi," he ordered the driver, who immediately obliged. Thus they wound their way through the streets of Gashuni, half an hour passing, then a full hour.

The car presently parked next to a run-down park, with heavy bushes. It still rained heavily, as the boys conferred on their next course of action. A dark shape apparated in the rain, headed for the car.

"Help!" screamed a voice. Hatsumi rolled the window down slightly, and they could hear the homeless woman's yells better. "There's a tiger in the park!"

Shidora left an indelible impression upon Hatsumi, in the form of a vicious bite on his left forearm. Back at the main kitchen of the Shoma estate, Shidora, wrapped in a thick blanket, kept apologizing profusely while Rhena applied a thick bandage to Hatsumi's arm.

"I panicked when I turned into a tiger," pleaded Shidora, her yellow eyes desperate. "Momma made me so mad, and I don't know what—"

"I told you already, it's fine," said Hatsumi, a little impatiently. The bite marks stung as Rhena drowned them in a healthy amount of alcohol.

"Good heavens, you have sharp teeth, Shidora, and a lot of them, too," observed Rhena. "Use them with care, dear."

"Why did I turn into a tiger?" asked Shidora.

"It's a long story, Shidora," said Hatsumi. "Agh!" Rhena had moved on to another set of punctures.

"Hotohori will be happy to have another girl in the Dzuni," concluded Rhena.

"We'll explain everything, tonight, Shidora," Hatsumi went on through gritted teeth. "And you'll meet everyone else. Yi! Rhena, can't you pour a little less alcohol on these bites!"

"I won't shirk my duty, 'tis not my way," Rhena chastised, "and you'll not be happy if one of those gets infected and your arm has to be cut off, Rhenuth Hatsumi."

"Oh, no!" said Shidora.

"Now, now, dear," cooed Rhena, smiling, "keep that blanket tightly wrapped, darling, I don't want you getting pneumonia. And Hatsumi's arm won't be coming off, not if I have anything to say about it." The alcohol bottle descended threateningly upon Hatsumi once again.

Aside from biting Hatsumi, Shidora's introduction to the Dzuni progressed smoothly. She and Hotohori got along well from the start, primarily because they came from similar backgrounds, where their guardians were concerned. In both cases, their guardians had taken the children for the monetary incentive. Shidora had also been a youngest child, who was totally devalued compared to her older brother and sister. Running away had been her only ticket to attention, and she was retrieved only because the Shumuras' money supply from Asheno would be cut off if they lost her.

_Haku_

Shidora had been at the estate for a week, and the ghost was silent the entire time. I made good use of the respite, guessing it would be all too brief. With help from Rhena, my room progressed from disaster area to merely disorganized, and Rhena tamed my formidable pile of laundry.

"Rhena," I said, while folding the last load of clothes, "do you know where the family doctor is?"

My seemingly dumb question surprised her. "Well, Haku, you should know—his house is on the east side of the garden." She critically surveyed old stains on a dark red hekasho well past its prime. "Gracious, Haku, your clothes are getting disgraceful. You ought to buy new ones. Wouldn't hurt you to be more careful about spilling, either."

"No, not the current doctor." The clothes could wait. "I meant the doctor who erased Dze's memory when Hatsuharu and I were babies."

She picked up another ancient hekasho and clucked at its deterioration, but her eyes eventually turned blank.

"Rhena?"

"No, I don't know," answered Rhena after a long pause. "He never gave me any information. Didn't I tell you that? And I didn't try to find out neither, because I knew Asheno was watching me. You shouldn't try—not right now, anyway. I want to make sure you're really well first." There was no need for her to say Asheno was also keeping a close eye on me; both of us knew that perfectly well. Since the dinner table incident, I'd felt Asheno's malevolent eyes burning into me whenever our paths crossed, which wasn't often.

"You should finish folding those shirts. I won't allow you to get any sloppier than you already are, if I have anything to say about it," declared Rhena. She looked at the laundry room clock, and rose from her stool. "Well, I must get dinner started. I suppose I should make one of Asheno's favorites." She grimaced. "He's been in such a foul mood lately." Grunting, she lifted the basket.

"Let me get that," I said, reaching for the full basket.

"That's very nice of you, dear, but finish those shirts," ordered Rhena. "I can manage this fine. Ah, yes," she stopped, turning to face me again. "I know about the ghost now, Haku."

"What?" I almost yelled. "What ghost?"

"Calm down, and hush, someone'll hear," Rhena shook her head. "Hatsuharu told me about your ghost wolf. Oh, don't give me that look, it'll be all right." Her body enveloped me in her familiar bone-crunching hug. "I still love you, and I won't treat you any differently. But I want you to be able to talk to me if you have problems. A handsome, growing boy like you shouldn't have to keep so many secrets. Too many worries make your face wrinkle earlier. Or is it your back gets bowed?" Despite myself, I gave a small smile. "That's better. Now finish those shirts."

"You're not afraid of the wolf, are you?" I asked. "Or me?"

"Darling," sighed Rhena, picking the basket up again, "in this house, Asheno's a bigger threat than any piffling ghost. Even a ghost with honest-to-goodness fangs."

Hatsuharu watched Haku struggle for control of the ghost during the entire dinner that night. As the only other person besides Hatsuharu and Haku to have personally observed the carnage Faran-Zhuku could wreak, Lhurone kept as vigil a watch, across the table from Haku. The excessive blinking and shaking of his head indicated a "fit," as the Dzuni had termed the moments when Haku would experience the same sort of incomplete visions he had at the very beginning of the ghost's takeover of his life. Suddenly hearing the voice of a distraught person from the past, or a younger Asheno screaming at the former Dzuni, never failed to disturb Haku, no matter how often he heard such bits of sound. This would be true for the rest of his life, as long as Faran-Zhuku lived.

Normally such "fits" only lasted a minute at most, and the ghost would restrain himself again. However, this fit had been lasting for a full five minutes, and Lhurone could tell Asheno was wondering if the ghost was trying to come out, to attack somebody, perhaps?

"You are excused, Haku," announced Asheno tersely. "Clearly you are feeling ill again."

In his relief, Haku didn't even thank Asheno, and ran at top speed to his room. Even as he opened the door, he knew the ghost would be waiting on his bed.

"So you were warming up for more?" asked Haku sarcastically. He immediately regretted his question when he saw Faran-Zhuku much the worse from wear. The wolf's ribs stuck out rather visibly—apparently, ghosts could become emaciated. The bald spots, cuts and bites were no better.

"But you were getting better," protested Haku. "Have you started chewing on yourself again?" Instinctively he reached out to inspect a bloody forelimb, and withdrew just as the vicious jaws just missed his fingers.

"**Don't get too close**," growled Faran-Zhuku, twitching his head. Haku wisely retreated until his back rested against the door. "**But is rather nice you concerned for me**."

"You haven't rested enough," ventured Haku when it seemed Faran-Zhuku had settled onto his bed more calmly. For the first time, looking at the wolf's precarious condition, it occurred to Haku that Faran-Zhuku could die.

"**No**," answered the wolf, sensing the boy's thoughts. "**I been through much worse than this and lived. Unfortunately**," Faran-Zhuku added as an afterthought, "**for I seen and been through too many horrible things, and remember them all**."

"Still, you ought to rest more," said Haku more firmly. Nevertheless, his fidgeting betrayed his uncertainty about how to answer to such an uncharacteristically personal admission from the ghost. Haku couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain the ghost had just given him a look of pity. The red eyes, no longer shocking to Haku, focused squarely upon him. For a fleeting moment, he saw the abyss of time and hidden secrets that lay behind the wolf's unknown years. Such moments never failed to disturb him, even after experiencing them so many times. He didn't like being reminded of how little he still knew. Haku's sight blurred, every object in his room turning red until he saw nothing but a vivid, glowing redness.

It was also summertime in the vision, like in Haku's life. The wolf had transported him into Hathori's office, where the doctor did all his paperwork and accounts. Right now, Hathori stared blankly down at his desk, his eyes not processing the letters on the paper before him. The sun shone fully on his back from the one window in the room. A pen sagged in his right hand, with the free hand massaging his temple. Everything in the room seemed to share the doctor's fatigue and disorder. Papers were piled high on the desk, and had begun claiming space on any other available surfaces, like the chairs and bookshelves. The window provided the only source of light. Hathori's outfit was crumpled, and his tie knot hung twisted and loosely. Heavy bags under his eyes and reddened eyes attested to major sleep deprivation issues. He'd also neglected his shaving, sporting a two days' growth.

The door timidly creaked open. A sharply defined nose and a hazel eye peeked through the crack at the doctor who remained oblivious to the disturbance.

"Doctor." The door decisively swung open the rest of the way, revealing a concerned Karan. "You should rest, you've been working yourself too hard lately."

With a small exclamation, Hathori jerked and straightened in his chair. As he reordered his thoughts, he finally recognized the intruder. "Karan," he breathed, slumping. "We need more…"

"How can you think about supplies, with the condition you're in?" scolded Karan. "I'll take care of Lhadoman's file, and you get some sleep right now!" Before her boss could lift a finger, she grabbed the file he'd been staring at so blankly.

"Karan." Hathori thought once again, what a really good woman she was despite her slight propensity for nosiness. She was very different from Hana—she was perceptive, very curious, and also very talkative. He didn't mind the talking at all; it was refreshing in a household where so many secrets lurked. Hathori wished he could confide in Karan about the curse. It would make his job so much easier, if he had someone outside the Dzuni he could trust. The tight, exclusive Dzuni social scene could be very asphyxiating. Too much had happened with Lhadoman lately, and Asheno had been especially taxing, even lashed out at Shehure…

Reading the doctor's sudden wistful expression accurately, Karan quietly asked, "Is there anything you want to talk to me about, Hathori?" It was the first time she'd ever used his name in addressing him, and it surprised him.

Karan decided it was time she told him. "Hathori," she continued, keeping her voice low, "I know about the curse."

"What curse?" replied Hathori automatically, out of a deeply rooted instinct to protect the secret.

"The Dzuni curse. Lhoru told me about it, because she felt I could be trusted. She said it might enable me to treat Lhadoman more easily if I understood his problems better." Karan suppressed a smile at Lhoru's clumsy lie; she had no doubt Lhoru's real intent had been matchmaking. Perhaps she and Nharu, the doctor's ward, were in cahoots; Nharu never shied to praise Hathori in Karan's hearing. Certainly, Karan had admitted to herself long ago she'd developed feelings for the doctor, but he was so distant that she couldn't bring herself to act on them.

"She told you about it," echoed Hathori, slowly nodding.

"Yes." Karan let Hathori take the reins, wary of his reaction. Thus far his expression remained inscrutable, blank.

"So now you know about it. You know about it." Suddenly Hathori winced, and his hands tightened around the ends of the armrests. A new urgency appeared in his voice when he asked, "Karan, have you told anybody?"

"No. Lhoru made sure to tell me it was a huge secret, though I'd already sensed so," answered Karan promptly. The girl had had the same urgent, fearful look Hathori now possessed, when she told Karan to never, ever tell anybody about the curse. "Why are you afraid? What happens if an outsider learns of the curse? Lhoru didn't want to tell me that much." Karan's fingers ached, and she realized she'd been gripping the chair for dear life. She let go, and flexed her hands.

Hathori didn't notice. He slumped back in his chair, and motioned Karan to sit. For a minute, Hathori kept moving his lips, trying to figure out how to begin. Strange, the doctor thought to himself, that he should more relief rather than apprehension at Karan's revelation. Well, he had just been wishing for an outsider he could confide in, after all.

Finally, the doctor looked at Karan and asked, "What did Lhoru say about Asheno?"

"Asheno?" Karan instinctively grimaced. "She didn't say anything except that he was the god of the Dzuni, the Dzuni have to follow his orders, and that because he's the god, he's also head of the Shoma family. But I know there's much more to that, there has to be." Given an opening, all of her repressed negative views of Asheno spilled forth in a deluge. "He's insane, sadistic. It's clear as day to me that he doesn't treat or respect his family the way a family head ought to, in my opinion. Nharu acts terrified around him, Lhoru is scared of him, and I'm positive he gave Lhadoman all those bruises. Everybody talks about him in either a totally subservient, fearful way or with outright hatred. The servants gossip about his beating them! He's sick all the time and works you into the ground! I'm sure he hired me specifically to bother you, although I don't know in what way..." Realizing how personal she'd gotten, she left the last statement hanging. Her cheeks felt flushed and her breath came a little too quickly. Hathori was looking down at his desk, seemingly oblivious to Karan's presence.

"I'm sorry," Karan spoke hastily, embarrassed. "I became too involved. I'll go now, doctor." She began to rise.

"No, stay," ordered Hathori, waking from his ponderous mood. "It's refreshing to hear someone with the courage to admit Asheno is insane." He gave her a small, bitter smile. "The Dzuni have treated the family head with complete deference for so long it's become an unwritten rule never to call the head insane, except in extreme cases."

"And Asheno isn't 'extreme'?" One thin eyebrow rose in Karan's face.

"No, my father, Asheno's predecessor, was far worse." Hathori leaned forward on the desk towards Karan. Seeing her look of surprise, Hathori continued, "Oh yes, we're quite a close-knit family. But I don't want to go into that now. Everything you said earlier about Asheno is true, Karan. Each Dzuni god goes mad, suffers ill health, and dies before his or her 25th birthday. It's a very difficult life, and Asheno's no exception."

Hathori sighed, and shifted in his seat. "Asheno wants all of his Dzuni to remain very close to him, and he is most attached to Shehure. You've met Shehure, haven't you?"

"The pervert?" Karan did remember him quite well. He'd made plenty of lewd jokes at her expense, and all in front of Hathori.

Hathori chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, you remember who he is. He's one of my dearest friends, actually—he doesn't always act like a pervert. It's always been his greatest desire to free himself of the curse, and he's been trying to find the cure for a long time now."

"And he found it? Is that why Asheno beat Lhadoman?"

"Not quite. Shehure hoped he'd found the cure, but it didn't work. You see, Lhadoman is special in the Dzuni. Are you familiar with the old Hothan story about the banquet the Lord of the Heavens invited the Dzuni animals to?"

"Yes," nodded Karan. "My mother told it to me many times."

"Lhadoman is the Cat."

"The cat that was tricked by the rat and missed the banquet?"

"Right. The cat has its own unique curse in the Shoma family. The bracelet that Lhadoman wears—the white and red one—prevents him from transforming into his true form, which consists of an ugly insectoid that gives off a terrible stench. He can transform into a regular cat if he gets sick or hugged by a girl, but unless he puts the bracelet back on quickly, he transforms into the true form. Traditionally, the family treats the cat as an outcast, and the cat is usually isolated in a small hut on the estate grounds, shut off from contact with the world."

Since first moving to Hoth six months ago, Karan had become fairly accustomed to its vastly different climate and culture. However, as she listened to Hathori speak about gods and a curse that turned people into animals, disbelief colored everything she heard. In Zi Alda, children were strictly taught that magic wasn't real, that it was just an illusion to deceive the stupid. Even though she knew Lhoru was a truly sincere and honest girl, she'd had trouble believing the girl.

"And this is real?" Karan found herself saying. "It's not just an elaborate form of control?"

"Let me show you." Hathori stood up, and walked over to Karan's side. "I'm one of the Dzuni. Hug me, and you'll see me transform."

Karan hesitated, shy about touching the doctor, much less hugging him. Silly girl, she scolded herself, calm down.

"It's okay, I don't bite in my animal form," Hathori said seriously. "Oh, one thing—don't put me in water after I transform. Just leave me be, I'll be fine."

Realizing Hathori really meant for her to hug him, Karan slowly rose. She ignored her jitters and grabbed Hathori, trying to end the hug as quickly as possible. Instead of finding a man pressed to her chest, Karan felt a rush of air in her face as a loud pop sounded. The doctor's shirt hung limply in her hands, no longer inhabited by a human body.

"What?" muttered Karan, desperately seeking some trace of life. She saw something brown flicker on the crumpled pants at her feet, and it dawned on her the brown object was a seahorse, no more than eight centimeters long. Sinking onto her knees, Karan looked at the seahorse in wonder.

"Doctor, is that you?" Her voice was hushed—the seahorse's diminutive size and fragile body made her nervous to speak at normal volume, as if doing so might crush the little thing.

"I see…" whispered Karan, as the full implications of the curse began to besiege her quick mind. Now she comprehended the strong undercurrents of fear in the family, the secretiveness that had so irritated her, why they might be willing to obey an otherwise maniacal leader, and why Shehure would want out of the curse…

"Ow!" yelled Karan, as another pop emitted from the pile at her feet and a human head connected with her own head. Rubbing the point of contact on his head with one hand, Hathori hurriedly sought to cover himself with the other. He pulled his pants over his lap, and Karan handed the shirt back.

"Do you understand better now?" asked Hathori, still crouched on the floor. When Karan nodded, Hathori said, "I'm supposed to be the dragon, but for some unknown reason, Dzuni dragons have always transformed into seahorses."

"You're cute though," Karan said, giving him a flirting smile. Hathori fought the urge to flirt back, and took a deep breath.

"Anyway," continued Hathori, "Shehure thought he'd found the cure, which was to find a person so warmhearted and open that she could even accept the cat in its true form."

"Lhoru, naturally," said Karan, shifting into a more comfortable position on the floor.

"Yes. Asheno was already itching to get rid of Lhoru and throw her out of the family, but Shehure convinced Asheno that letting her see Lhadoman's true form would chase her away for good. You see, Asheno is very jealous about the admiration Lhoru causes among the Dzuni, admiration he believes should be reserved only for him, and he loathes her. A week ago Shehure called Khazuma, Lhadoman's adoptive father, over to his house. There, Khazuma took off Lhadoman's bracelet, and he transformed in front of Lhoru. Lhadoman was extremely upset and ran away, but Lhoru followed him and managed to bring him back. She accomplished something very difficult, Karan. She willingly chased a smelly, hideous monster and salvaged it from a deadly despair, one Lhadoman could never have emerged from. Such a loving, accepting outsider is more than most Dzuni can hope for, much less the cat.

"It was a foregone conclusion that Lhado and Lhoru would become a couple afterwards. But Asheno threw a fit to end all fits when Shehure told him the plan had failed. He screamed so loudly, everyone in the main house heard him. He threw anything within his reach, and called Shehure stupid and incompetent."

"I heard the yelling," said Karan. "Personally, I'm amazed someone as weak as Asheno can have such a piercing voice."

Hathori frowned. "There's too much you don't know about him yet. Before that day, Shehure was the only Dzuni Asheno had never abused. Asheno trusted him that much. I'm worried now, though, because I believe Asheno now suspects Shehure has ulterior motives, and is not entirely loyal to him. Asheno's not pressing Shehure about that yet, and let's hope he doesn't.

"Later that same day, Asheno demanded for Lhoru, Lhado, and Khazuma to meet with him. That was when Lhado got the bruises and cuts you treated. Despite Asheno's rage, Lhoru and Lhado defied him and said they'd remain together. The most shocking thing for Asheno was when Khazuma told him he'd never allow Asheno to shut Lhadoman away after high school graduation. You must understand, Karan, no one has ever openly defied Asheno before. This is a very serious matter. I don't know how Shehure will be able to reassure Asheno this time, that the Dzuni still love him and will stay near him." Hathori sighed.

"All the excitement overtaxed Asheno's system, and he's been sick ever since then. It's so hard for me, listening to his feverish rantings about the family betraying him, begging me to erase Lhoru's memory…" Hathori covered his eyes.

"Erase Lhoru's memory?" gasped Karan.

"Yes, I possess the power of erasing people's memories." His mouth constricted visibly. "It's more like a deep hypnosis, really. I…erase someone's memory when Asheno orders me to, usually when a Dzuni accidentally transforms in front of an outsider. And in some other situations."

"Are you going to erase Lhoru's memory?" Karan looked Hathori straight in his jade green eyes.

"I don't know," replied Hathori impotently.

"Do you want to?" pressed Karan softly, yet insistently, certain she could sense a definite reluctance on Hathori's part.

Lhado and Lhoru loved each other, that was obvious to anybody who watched them together, as Hathori had done. They were completely absorbed in each other, as he and Hana had once been. Flashbacks of Hana's sunken eyes and unceasing tears of guilt, her hands desperately clutching at his shirt, returned as surely as winter arrived in Hoth every year. His own grief when Hana left, every one of her memories of Hathori destroyed.

"No," said Hathori, his voice stronger. "I don't want them to suffer, as I once did." The sobs took him off guard, and he surrendered to his fatigue, hunger, and bad memories entirely, crying more freely than he'd done since Hana's departure.


	37. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, not me. I also don't own anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 39**

As Hotohori looked outside her airplane window, the land slowly turned from green back to the familiar gray and snowy vista that dominated during winter. Two hours ago at Haresuroka Airport, just to the south of Lhasa, Hotohori had been sweating in the 70-degree weather because Asheno forced her to wear warm clothing. She'd been credulous that it could still be so cold in southern Hoth in summer, but no longer. The cities and towns had become more spread out until they disappeared altogether. Now the dividing range had petered out, and the plane cruised smoothly over the great icy flatlands, called the Ashomi Waste, that bordered the Ghobrin Ice.

"I wish we weren't going to such a cold place," sighed Hotohori. "The weather's been so nice in Lhasa during the last few weeks."

"It's hard to tell," snapped Haku next to her, "when Asheno shuts us inside all the time."

"Haku, relax, you look deranged," whispered Hatsuharu in the aisle seat, taking off his Walkman.

"It's the damn wolf. I didn't get any sleep last night," growled Haku, ripping apart a snack packet with unnecessary vigor. "I wish Asheno had left me behind."

"He'll hear," hissed Hotohori.

"No, he won't," replied Haku, "because he's getting ill. Can't you hear how he's tormenting the doctor and servants?"

From behind, they could hear Asheno hurling savage epithets at the harried family doctor. Other passengers were staring, and a fascinated child behind Asheno stood up in his seat to get a better view.

"Why couldn't we use the family's private jet?" asked Hotohori, deeply embarrassed by the unabashedly curious eyes fixed on their section.

"It needed maintenance, so I hear." Hatsuharu shrugged and put his Walkman back on.

The teenagers sat for the next minute in silence. Looking at nothing but ice depressed Hotohori, and she turned to Haku. "Why did Asheno insist on your coming?" Asheno had informed Hatsuharu and Hotohori that they would be helpful in getting the new Dzuni to come to Lhasa. It made some sense, but left both a little nervous about why Asheno thought he needed help from the other Dzuni.

Haku scoffed. "He doesn't trust me and he's frightened of Faran-Zhuku. Even if the doctor hadn't ordered me to get out of the house and breathe some fresh air, Asheno would still have dragged me along."

"Your visions are back, aren't they? Faran-Zhuku hasn't finished yet?" Hotohori didn't like seeing the dark rings around her friend's eyes, and the haunted, angry expression that had become almost perpetual during the last few weeks. Briefly she had hoped the wolf would sleep for a long time. The other night at the dinner table confirmed otherwise, unfortunately.

"Are my visions back?" mimicked Haku. "What a stupid question! Of course they are! The ghost is very good at dragging things out."

Letting the nasty tone slide, Hotohori asked gently, "What are the visions about?"

"Oh, the breaking of the old family curse."

"Faran-Zhuku's still on the same subject? It might not have been a curse to begin with."

"You're still thinking about that bookstore you found?"

"Yes," nodded Hotohori, her face becoming more animated. "Haku, I really think I might learn more in Lhose. Honestly, I was happy when Asheno ordered me to come along. The people in Lhose are superstitious and much more traditional. The old legends have always survived better in southern Hoth, especially Lhose, but they rarely reach anybody in the north. We may learn a lot about the Dzuni and their origin."

"At the rate you're going, I may end up learning everything about the Dzuni from you instead of Faran-Zhuku," groaned Haku. "He's going to take forever. Hey, Tori, do you know whether Shuro is a girl or boy?"

"Asheno didn't say. Shuro's usually a boy's name, though."

The real objective of this particular trip was to retrieve another member of the Dzuni, Dzaran Shuro. Since Hatsuharu listened to music so much, he heard that Shuro and a cousin had formed a singing duo and become local celebrities in Lhose, but that was all. Shuro, apparently, possessed an amazing singing voice, and members of the music underground expected Shuro to leave his or her mark.

Twenty minutes later, the plane landed on the single strip that served Lhose's airport. The airport was so small it had only seven gates, and the majority of those were reserved for commercial planes that carried mail and goods. Used to the bustling, rushed atmosphere of a huge transport center such as Haresuroka, the quiet efficiency of Lhose Airport came as a shock to the Shomas, except for Asheno, by then too ill to notice. As the doctor and servants made sure their head was securely wrapped in thick blankets, the teenagers retrieved the luggage and met the chauffeur Asheno had arranged for.

"I understand why nobody but the natives like Lhose," remarked Hatsuharu, watching the bare landscape crawl by the snowcar's windows. Because of the amount of ice and snow, square vehicles with tractor-like treadmills were a much wiser mode of transport than the regular four-wheeled cars favored outside of the south. In Lhose, the buildings were only one story, and devoid of any outside decoration except icicles and ice sculptures. Lhose took pride in its ice sculptors, unsurpassed anywhere else in Hoth. However, even elaborate, gorgeous sculptures could not change the fact that here was a climate only twenty thousand inhabitants, and their brave ancestors, had been able to withstand. Today, the temperature was a frigid thirty degrees, not counting the formidable wind chill.

Finally the snowcar stopped at a set of blue buildings arranged in a circular pattern. They'd arrived at their inn. Due to the necessity of effective heating, each cabin was compact and large enough for only three people to share comfortably. All of them had small fireplaces, and well-maintained heaters. What the buildings lacked in outer décor, they compensated for in their interiors. Old-fashioned, richly colored woven tapestries covered the walls, and plush carpets, made from murin fur, lent a comforting feel to cold feet. Murin were badger-like creatures with abundant, thick fur coats and strong front claws for digging. They hibernated in nests in the snow during the long winter, and came out for two months to mate and eat. At the beginning of the summer, they shed their old fur and grew it back. Murin fur provided the mainstay of the Lhose economy; it made for excellent coats and other weather-repellent items. Other villages further north in the Waste also exported murin fur, but the fur grew longer and thicker as one went south. Hence Lhose undeniably became the murin center.

The furniture, made out of wood imported from the forests of northwestern Hoth, was as skillfully carved as the ice sculptures, and the chairs were cushioned perfectly. The visiting Shomas very much appreciated the fact that Lhoseans understood how important comfort and color were in such a barren climate. Hatsuharu and Haku shared one cabin, Hotohori and the two female servants another, and lastly, Asheno, the doctor and the one male servant took up residence in the third. Immediately, all three fireplaces were lit.

Asheno decided to postpone visiting the Dzarans until the next day. Haku was grateful for the opportunity to rest as well as he could, considering it was likely visions would descend upon him that night. He looked through the thick glass window, no larger than his torso, at the hazy outlines of Lhose's "downtown." There clearly was an area where most of the buildings were concentrated, and the murin penning areas and fur processing factories spread along the periphery. In the distance, his eyes could barely make out a triangular shadow that stood far above the one-story rooftops, and he failed to recollect what it was. Oddly, Haku could not shake off a sense of recognition that somehow he'd been to Lhose before and seen that towering shadow, but he'd never traveled to Lhose until now.

Haku sank into a deep sleep, pictures of a green mountainside graced by blooming flame trees. It'd been a long time since he last saw a flame tree or its flowers in his visions, and Haku walked slowly among the trees, basking in the beauty of their fiery blossoms. Looking past the mountain, he saw vast green lands with tall grasses swaying in the cool wind. It was a far cry from the wide swath of snow and ice that covered the southern flatlands for most of the year, and surrounded Lhose.

Being the only tall feature, the mountain dominated the landscape. Stumbling, Haku recovered his balance and found himself walking on a paved pathway, winding around the mountain's side. The pathway consisted of natural gray stones, but they'd been buffered to a perfect smoothness on top. Haku continued along the pathway, admiring the scenery.

A rustling stopped him, and to his left, he saw a human. Since it wore a thick, old-fashioned hekasho, it was most likely a man. His long chestnut hair kept his face hidden as he caressed a flame tree branch. Awed by the figure's aura of regality and power, Haku instinctively bowed deeply. Before Haku could speak however, a strong gale blew and transformed the mountain and surrounding lands into the barren Waste, the mysterious man disappearing abruptly.

Slowly, the shock of the bitterly cold wind wore off, and Haku was able to comprehend his surroundings once again. The vision had whisked him back to Lhasa, to a neighborhood he'd never gone to but had heard much about. The small, artsy shops and trendy nightclubs indicated his new whereabouts were Dze-I, adjacent to Mhagenu. It had once been a fashionable hangout for the rich and upper middle-class. Nowadays it'd gone to seed, the boutiques being replaced by porn stores, and the nightclubs surrendering to shifty bars. In Haku's generation, went to Dze-I to seek reprieve from their troubles in drink and sex.

However, the storefronts now gleamed, their windows showcasing any variety of wares from resplendent clothing to dainty house accessories. A golden cast from the sunset lingered in the summer air, and a dusky purple spread in the sky. Both stores and nightclubs were quiet now, as stores began closing and nightclubs had yet to open. Haku dithered uncertainly in the middle of the half-empty street, still mildly disoriented from the rapid switch of locales.

"Hello?" Huki's voice sounded behind Haku. "Are you there, Ahame?" Haku turned around and observed the rat knocking on a door under a bright red-and-pink sign bearing the name "Ahame's Love Garden." The nature of the sign immediately made Haku wonder about its purpose, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw how clearly mortified Huki was to be standing in front of such a store.

"My Gods," muttered Huki, knocking yet again. "I must be insane…Hello! Anyone? It's me, Huki, Ahame's younger brother."

A short, trim woman with the classic Hothan mousy brown hair finally opened the door. Her lively eyes scanned Huki with the interest of an expert, mentally taking his measurements.

"Ooh, you'd make a beautiful model. Have you ever considered a career in modeling?" she asked eagerly, causing Huki to blush and stammer.

"Mhine, who's there?" called the familiar voice of Ahame.

"I'm sorry, we've just closed, but perhaps we could accommodate you for a few minutes. Who are you?" the woman named Mhine, suddenly remembering her duties, blithely asked Huki.

"I'm Ahame's younger brother, Shoma Huki," repeated the rat nervously, just noticing that Mhine had on a rather short and revealing maid's outfit. "This is his shop, isn't it?"

"Oh, Huki!" declared Mhine. "Come in, come in! What a surprise, it's so nice to finally meet you!" She forcefully pulled him into the store, chattering happily. "Ahame talks about you so much!" Shelves of fabric rolls surrounded the two on both sides, and a small couches had been arranged for visitors in the central area of the store. Mhine led Huki to a couch, and switched on the lights.

"Who's there, Mhine?" called Ahame again, from a room in the back.

"Huki's come to visit you, Ahame!" yelled Mhine. "Would you like some tea, Huki?"

"No, thanks," Huki replied, looking around at his older brother's shop. He'd never seen it before, and didn't fully understand its purpose, though the sign and Mhine's outfit gave him clues.

"I'm Alefu Mhine, I work for your brother," Mhine said, smiling brightly and seating herself on the couch opposite Huki's. "Ahame will be here in a moment, he's working on an urgent order for a client." She smoothed her skirts. "We weren't expecting anybody."

"Um, yeah, I decided to see what kind of shop Ahame had," lied Huki.

"What, you don't know?" gasped Mhine, aghast. "This is terrible! Of course," she smiled, "I shall tell you. We help our customers live out their romantic fantasies."

"Their…romantic fantasies?" repeated Huki, crossing his leg and squirming. "You mean…like roleplay?"

"Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, especially if there's love between the people involved," chided Mhine, in the same tone used to explain the birds and bees to five-year-olds. "We do not judge anybody here, and…"

"Yes, yes, I agree!" said Huki desperately, anything to keep her from venturing into dangerous water. Huki sighed. He should've known better—this was exactly the sort of profession that fit Ahame perfectly.

Mhine chuckled bemusedly. The deep blush on Huki's face revealed all too clearly how little experience he had in such things. Thus far, Ahame's little brother fulfilled the picture she'd painted from her conversations with her flashy boss. Introverted, quiet, proper, and haunted. Yet he'd never come to the shop before, or more accurately, had never wanted to come. Instantly Mhine's mind set to work on the possible reasons for Huki's call.

Perhaps he'd fought with Ahame and come to talk? Ahame had been unusually tense and reserved since last week. Despite her best efforts, Mhine had been unable to coax the usual flowery monologues from her boss. She alone knew how much his strained relationship with Huki troubled him.

"I'll be there in five minutes!" yelled Ahame.

Mhine decided to test the fight scenario. "Did you have a good time at the spa?"

She knew a number of the Shoma teenagers, including a girl named Lhoru, had been sent to take some time off at a Shoma-owned spa in the mountains after some enormous row in the family. Ahame had been very vague about the cause.

"Oh, yes," Huki flashed a smile, revealing perfect white teeth, and relieved by the change of subject. "The attendant was overwrought as usual, and her son Rhishu was also there, so there was a lot of drama."

"I'm sure," agreed Mhine. She'd heard about Shoma Rhishu and his mother, Gera, who ran the spa. They both suffered from exceedingly nervous and anxious personalities, and shared the same lack of self-esteem. Mhine had met them before; they were perfectly nice, but their twitchiness could really grate on the nerves after a while. Rhishu worshipped Ahame, and often dropped by the store to visit. Mhine never ceased to mull over Rhishu's compulsion to dress like a woman. Unbeknownst to Mhine, of course, was the fact that Rhishu was the monkey of the Dzuni. Huki smiled as he recalled the moment Lhoru accidentally hugged Rhishu under the mistaken impression that he was a girl, and the chaos that ensued afterwards.

"I was there with Nharu, Haru, Lhoru, and Lhadoman," continued Huki. "Lhoru and Lhadoman are now dating, by the way."

"Who's Lhadoman?" frowned Mhine.

"Uh, he's the same age as me, and we go to the same high school." Huki searched for a way to explain about Lhadoman while simultaneously evading the secret of the curse. Obviously Mhine didn't know, because the name Lhadoman was usually enough to evoke whispering about the cat among those initiated into the secret. The belated arrival of Ahame came to Huki's rescue.

A whirlwind of red silk flew out of the back hallway. "Little brother!" Ahame declared joyfully, spreading his arms in a theatric gesture of welcome.

"Hello, Ahame," Huki replied automatically. His spine stiffened, and his body froze. He was still not quite comfortable dealing with Ahame's flamboyance.

"I see you and Mhine have introduced yourselves," Ahame said, gliding to the couch where Mhine sat and settling the empty seat next to her. "This is such a special occasion—Huki visits me for the first time!"

Although intimidated by his older brother's greeting, Huki experienced a momentary pang of surprise when he noticed the dark smudge under Ahame's right eye. It seemed he'd put on makeup to cover circles from sleep deprivation, but some of the makeup had begun to wear off. How strange, both Shehure and Hathori also looked exhausted when the teenagers had returned from their trip yesterday. Now, Huki thought he detected a note of strain in Ahame's voice, and wondered what had transpired among the three best friends during the teenagers' spa sojourn.

Ahame blathered on during Huki's meditations. Finally pausing, Ahame asked, "So what brings you here, to my humble little shop?"

"Well," breathed Huki, "I was actually hoping to speak to you about a private matter." Huki made his expression as serious as possible, trying to convey the gravity to Ahame clearly and to hint to Mhine that she should leave them alone. He didn't want to offend Mhine, but she showed no signs of such when she rose and announced it was long past the time for her to go home.

"I'm glad we finally met, Huki," Mhine said, giving him one last smile, and skipped towards the back door to gather her belongings. She'd sensed that whatever Huki wanted to discuss with Ahame, it was a heavy topic, and she needed to skedaddle. She would use the back door to leave.

After calling out a final good-bye to Mhine, Ahame turned back to his younger brother. Frankly, Huki's desire to speak with him so seriously caught Ahame off guard. Ahame dropped his jocund mask, and felt strangely relieved. The tiredness from the past week's agony threatened to engulf him, and he wanted nothing more than to feel his soft pillow against his cheek.

Despite his rancorous history with Ahame, the sight of his brother sagging so suddenly alarmed Huki greatly. "Ahame, are you ill?"

"No…no, fear not, Huki. I am fine," answered Ahame unconvincingly, a weak smile framing his lips. "Just a busy surge in work, that's all. You'd be shocked at what a demanding business romance is."

"Um, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Romance?" Ahame's tone was shocked, expressionless. Huki nodded almost imperceptibly. So poor Huki was about to join the lengthy list of Shomas whose hearts were broken, courtesy of the curse. Ahame supposed he knew such a scenario had always been possible for him and Huki, but he'd never allowed himself to truly consider it. That ill-advised line of thinking had been haunting him for a while now, ever since his feelings for Mhine had begun to develop and he heard from Shehure that Huki seemed to have a crush on one of Lhoru's friends.

"Is it Lhoru's friend, what's-her-name?" asked Ahame wearily.

"Hanadzima. Dzima for short."

" 'Blue sea.' Nice name." Ahame's noncommittal comment gave Huki a feeling the conversation wasn't off to a good start, but what Ahame said next shocked him.

"If you want to date her, I'll support you when Asheno finds out."

"W-what?" stuttered Huki. He'd expected Ahame to start trying to persuade him not to see Hanadzima, judging from his older brother's initially tepid reaction. "Really?"

Ahame winked, some of his normal flamboyance returning. "I know I haven't been too helpful in the past, Huki, but never let it be said I stood in the way of young love."

All that time spent preparing himself for rejection came to nothing for Huki. Still, he wasn't ready to tell Ahame how invaluable the support of another Dzuni, especially his brother, was to him. The best Huki could muster was a small "Thanks."

"Well, I shall make some tea, and then you must tell me more about Hanadzima," said Ahame much more gaily than he felt. He could already feel the burden of the secret he now shared with Shehure, Hathori and Khazuma about Karan. Somehow, they'd have to conceal it from the rest of the Dzuni for a year, and Ahame desperately wished he could tell Huki, or anybody, really.

At that moment, Karan had just spent her first day in Lhose. The snow was finally melting, and the ground squished and sloshed as people walked. She'd taken residence in a small but comfortable house Hathori had rented for her. It'd been terribly difficult, saying good-bye to Hathori that morning at Haresuroka Airport. Just when they'd finally admitted their love to each other. For a moment, as Karan looked at the same massive, bluish-grey shadow in the distance as Haku would a generation later, Karan wondered if she'd been insane to agree to live in an isolated town in the Waste and give birth to a child. Or perhaps the events of the last week hadn't actually happened.

At least Hathori would visit her every so often to check on the progress of her pregnancy, and to keep her company. The plan seemed too incredible to be real—she was still trying to understand it. And she feared Asheno so much. If he found out, there would be no mercy for Hathori, Shehure, or any of the Dzuni.

Karan continued to stare at the blue outlines of Thika Mountain, which the locals made a big fuss about. She'd ask them more, but later, when she felt normal again. She sighed, turned from the window, and collapsed onto her bed, utterly exhausted.


	38. Chapter 40

This story also has some "Pet Shop of Horrors" and "Tokyo Babylon" mixed into it, but this volume is mostly "Fruits Basket." I mention this because a little TB appears in this chapter.

Disclaimer: FB, PSOH, and TB belong to Natsuki Takaya, Matsuri Akino and CLAMP, respectively. Anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 40**

Ten times a night, images of the fragile, curled parchment disturbed Shehure's dreams. The signature on the parchment, in particular, seemed blacker and bolder each time. The shaky, careful handwriting gained new vivacity, as the laws of the dream world steadied and strengthened its lines and curves. Shehure always heard a voice in those dreams reading out the contents of the parchment, and by now he was almost convinced it was the voice of its writer, risen from the dead to make sure the family was resurrected from the curse.

Shehure walked from his study to the kitchen, wishing for once the children were home. The house was too quiet for his frayed nerves. Perhaps tea would help. Summer had ended, and it was a month into the school year. Huki, Lhadoman, and Lhoru were now seniors.

Karan had now been in Lhose for three months. Apparently she was doing fine, but recently Hathori had been forced to terminate communication with her due to Asheno's diabolically timed rash of poor health. More seriously, however, Asheno had been wondering about the doctor's mysterious absences. It only served to make a tense situation worse, not knowing how Karan was doing. Shehure actually welcomed his editor's panicky visits as a distraction from the strain the three friends endured. Ahame, for his part, had been working overtime, earning frequent glances of worry from his faithful Mhine, who was still completely in the dark about Karan. Khazuma prayed fervently, to any deity that might exist, for the curse to be broken so Lhadoman would finally be freed from the cat's shackles. Six more months until they would know whether the unusual instructions given in the parchment worked.

Luckily the younger Dzunis were too occupied with their own lives to notice the three oldest members' stress. Oh, Huki noticed how tired and overwrought Ahame was, but he spent virtually every minute with Hanadzima now. Lhoru and Nharu were busy convincing Hatharu to court Zhula, and thus far it appeared their efforts wouldn't be in vain. Shehure chuckled. Soon enough, if things went well, all three girls would be marrying into the family. As for his little brother Haru, he was slowly persuading Rin to get back together with him. The thought of Haru and Rin rankled Shehure slightly still; he hadn't quite found it in himself to completely forgive Rin for the way she treated Haru when they broke up.

Strangely, Asheno hadn't reacted much to the outbreak of dating and rebellion in the family. Their head surely was frustrated, and his frustration manifested itself in the form of illness. Shehure hadn't visited him for a while; Asheno's health couldn't handle it now.

"It would be better for everybody if Asheno died," Shehure said in a flat tone, to the empty room at large. He tipped his cup, and drops of hot tea landed on his foot. "Damn!" Perversely, a bird chirped cheerfully outside.

_Hotohori_

Our esteemed family head was still ill when I woke up the next morning, so the boys and I were free to go where we wanted. Both Hatsuharu and Haku were dead asleep, and I decided to leave them in peace. I bundled up in my thick winter coat and leggings, and made my way to the central lobby of the inn. The cold stung my face right away, and I increased my pace.

The lobby contained a large circular fireplace in the center, around which tables and chairs had been arranged. At one end was the registration desk, and a small stage dominated the opposite end. The inn often had bands play after sunset, and the employees kept up a brisk chatter as they assembled and arranged microphones and sound systems. I ignored the bustle and headed for registration. Only one stout attendant stood behind the desk, and he smiled broadly as I approached.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" He had the same weatherworn face of all middle-aged Lhoseans, and he was just as friendly. The contrast between Lhoseans and Lhasans became more obvious as I encountered more Lhoseans. They never failed to acknowledge strangers, and often greeted them cheerfully. In Lhasa one would only get a suspicious look at most if one said hello to a complete stranger on the sidewalk. I'd expected Lhose's inhabitants to be perpetual seasonal affective disorder sufferers. Certainly, I didn't present a pretty picture to the desk attendant, with my dull voice and drawn face. Again I cursed Asheno silently for dragging me to a wintry place full of my archnemesis, snow.

"Have you heard of Dzaran Shuro?" I asked.

As I expected, he had. "Of course I've heard of him! He's one of the best singers to come out of Lhose in recent years. Why, he's singing here tonight! I would strongly recommend that you come, ma'am. There'll be good drink and food, and plenty of people your age to meet."

"You might even get a chance to talk with me," said a smooth, low voice. I was surprised to see a young man whose head was level with my shoulder. He'd cut his deep brown hair in a feathery bob that framed his delicate face. His entire body was delicate: the tiny hands, the light golden tan (in Lhose?), the brownish-gold flecking of his round eyes, the neck that looked as though it could snap under the lightest pressure. The baggy clothes clashed rudely with such a body. Shuro wore a dark green sweater that hung over his hands, and his black khaki pants left plenty of room pooled at his ankles. Vaguely I wondered if he was gay and trying to disguise it.

"Of course, that depends on whether I'm being stormed by my fans after the show or not," laughed Shuro, "I'm very popular, you know." He winked at me, and I narrowed my eyes, offended.

"Oh, I see, you're a visitor who's depressed by Lhose's dismal weather." Shuro nodded knowingly, unfazed. He turned to the attendant. "Perhaps I shall try to cheer her up?"

"I don't need cheering up," I snapped.

"Will you have some drinks sent to us? Traditional ones?" Shuro asked the attendant, who obliged and departed. Shuro grabbed my wrist, and before I could protest, had seated me in a deep, comfortable leather chair before the roaring fire.

"I'm totally with you," Shuro said, "I can't stand this weather either. As you see, my body isn't really build for it." He extended a hand to prove his point. "I've got no insulation on me whatsoever."

"How can Lhoseans be so cheerful?" I asked, unable to resist the burning question any longer. Despite my initial poor impression of Shuro, I began to warm up slightly. "It's so cold, there's so much ice and snow, and it's only 'summer' for two months out of the year."

"We surround ourselves with beautiful things." With an extravagant gesture, Shuro took in the paintings, carvings and bright colors that ornamented the room. "We carry it to an extreme, and we also drink a lot. Did you know Lhose is known for its liquor, besides its fur?" As Shuro nodded, his head bobbed in a queer pecking manner.

The attendant returned with a bottle and two glasses. "Here, Mr. Dzaran," he beamed, "some of Lhose's finest for our visitor." He bowed to me and left.

I eyed the contents of the black bottle uneasily. Shuro examined the label and smiled demonically. "This is strong stuff, but you bet it's a Lhose vintage. I wouldn't drink it too quickly." As he poured the purple liquid into the glasses, the smell of alcohol permeated the space.

Shuro watched me expectantly as I lifted the glass to my lips with great trepidation. I took a small sip, and fire engulfed my mouth.

"Auggh…" Quickly, I set the glass back on the coffee table, and gasped like a fish, trying to exterminate the burning with cooler air. Bastard, I thought, as I observed Shuro chuckling and effortlessly downing his glass.

"I told you it was strong. It'll stop burning in a few seconds, so don't worry." He waited until my mouth was only halfway open. "What's your name? You're a cute girl."

"I didn't come here to get hit on!" The stinging faded steadily, and I flexed my tongue cautiously, licking my lips.

"Easy, I'll back off," said Shuro.

"Zhuruth Hotohori. And how did you manage to drink that entire glass?"

"I've lived in Lhose all my life, so I've had more time to get used to the burning." He poured himself another glass, and sipped once. "This is my favorite, by the way. So your name is Hotohori? Where are you from?"

"Lhasa." The mention of the city had a curious effect on Shuro. The cocky smile vanished, and Shuro rushed to drink the rest of the glass. It occurred to me that he knew that we'd come to get him.

"Lhasa?" His voice started high, but returned to its previous low pitch. "Are you from that family, by any chance?"

"The Shomas?" I asked gently. Shuro remained silent, his cheek muscle twitching every so often.

"You don't want to leave, do you?" The fire's roar seemed to gain volume in the quiet that ensued between Shuro and I. This would have to be handled carefully, but I soon found out that the reasons why weren't what I thought.

"No." Shuro shook his head emphatically. "I'd like nothing more than to leave this hellhole and go north, to warmer climates. And Lhasa is a much better place to start a professional singing career. You've got me wrong. But my family doesn't want me to leave."

"Do you love them?" I asked. I knew I was venturing onto dangerous ground, judging from Shuro's uncomfortable fidgeting. Finally, he looked at me, laughing nervously.

"Hotohori, have you noticed there aren't any flame trees in Lhose?" His sudden change of subject relieved me of the burden of easing the tension.

"There are trees in Lhose?" Frankly, I hadn't seen much, but I couldn't recall seeing any sign of plant life in all the snow.

"It's the wrong season, but there are some small trees. No flame trees, though," clarified Shuro. "Do you even have any idea what flame trees look like? There should still be plenty standing in Lhasa."

"Well, they are the subject of our national song," I responded somewhat indignantly, and uncertain of where the conversation was heading. Hesitating, I realized I couldn't summon a mental picture of a flame tree, only a vague idea that their blossoms were the color of fire, as the song said.

"Their bark is blackish-grey in color," explained Shuro, "and they're usually really twisted in shape, and not very tall."

"Oh, those trees!" Finally I remembered the gloomy trees all over the main estate, and felt somewhat embarrassed that I should have forgotten them so easily. "They never bloom anymore, so nobody in Lhasa really pays attention to them anymore." Suddenly I felt sad. "If I remember correctly, the flame trees used to be revered in Hoth."

"Not in Lhose," whispered Shuro, with a bitter smile. "That reminds me, you should not talk about them around native Lhoseans. It's fine with me." He leaned in towards me, and continued in a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, Thika Mountain is only twenty miles away from here. It's like a graveyard now and depressing—don't go there. That's where the flame trees are from. Lhose is the only town in the Ashomi Waste that doesn't have flame trees, which is kind of ridiculous considering how close we are to Thika.

"The other towns in the Waste and high up in the mountains have lots of stories about the old gods who lived on Thika, and made sure the land remained peaceful and rich. The flame trees served as their source of magic, and eventually the trees were planted all over Hoth because they were believed to bring good luck. As far as I know, that never happened in Lhose.

"Instead, the people who founded Lhose almost seven hundred years ago believed the flame trees were the source of evil magic, and destroyed all the ones within reach of their lands. They left Thika alone because even they were too afraid to disturb it. Nobody's ever explained to me why, but there you have it." Shuro shrugged philosophically. "At the time Lhose was founded, a family with strong magical ties practically ruled Hoth, and whose emblem was the flame tree. Their name has never been forgotten in Lhose—the Sakurazukas, which means 'dark magic,' as you know. Legend has it Lhose was founded by survivors of a rival family that was crushed by the Sakurazukas almost seven hundred years ago.

Then, five hundred years ago, the Sakurazukas suddenly faded from the public scene, the flame trees wouldn't bloom anymore, and a story started getting around about a prophecy saying that the gods would return after the flame trees had been barren for five hundred years."

I'd listened to the long speech with a growing realization of how little I knew I about the curse's complexity. And the Sakurazukas sounded suspiciously like the Shomas—the timing was perfect.

"Shuro, how much do you know about the curse?" I asked hoarsely, interrupting Shuro's reverie.

"What curse?" Shuro looked genuinely puzzled. Then he sighed. "Eh, I wouldn't be surprised if there are stories about a curse, too." His face became hard, and he forgot about the curse the next moment: "But I want you to understand, Hotohori, I hate those damn flame trees, too. Not because I think they're evil—that's an old folks' tale—but for what they've made my family do to me."

All of Shuro's previous drama and flippancy had vanished completely, overtaken by anger. He stared into the fire, his lips moving but no sound issuing from them. Despite my better judgment, I stared, wondering how half-dead trees could've possibly driven his family to do things that would leave Shuro in such a state.

"Hey, Shuro!" bellowed a bossy woman's voice. "We need to do a sound test on the equipment now!"

"Oh, that's my manager," said Shuro, perking instantly. "Coming!" He stood up, and I did likewise. "We'll talk again, won't we, Hotohori?" His smile showed no signs of his very recent strain. "Come to the show tonight!" He yelled back as he trotted towards the stage.

Hathori, Ahame, and Khazuma had the same dream about the parchment as Shehure, and they heard the same raspy voice.

During a particularly hot night, the silk sheets on Ahame's bed became more twisted and rumpled as the snake tossed in bed. He groaned as he shifted once again. For a few minutes, it seemed he could finally sleep in peace. Then Ahame's body froze, as the voice began speaking in his dreams:

_"I, first of the Dzuni Gods, write this on my deathbed. My strength fades quickly. I have told no one of this parchment, and I shall entrust these instructions for the resurrection of the gods to the safekeeping of fate."_

In a martial arts center near the Golden Ridge, Khazuma heard the words again in his sleep:

_"Those who find this parchment, the spell will surely have ravaged the family and cast the Dzuni into a seemingly eternal hell of misery. My Dzuni and I have already tasted this misery, and long for freedom._

_"500 years from now, when the gods have slumbered long enough, the spell shall be lifted by the dragon, serpent, and wolf. They must mix their seed with one in whose veins the dark magic flows. Thus the spiritual bridge shall be rebuilt."_

Hathori, wide awake by contrast, gazed out of his bedroom window out onto a peaceful summer night in Lhasa. Once again, he took comfort in the dead god's last words, desperate for reassurance of Karan's safety in Lhose and the success of their actions. Even if the reassurance was from a person who'd lain in a grave for half a millennia.

_"Heed my instructions, and within the year you will be able to caress your loved one, as I have been unable to do these past 30 years. The resurrection shall be slow to reach its finish, a natural effect of the gods having been silenced for 500 years. Have patience, and hope once again."_

Meanwhile, Shehure contemplated the mysterious signature as he stared at the beginnings of his newest romance novel on his computer screen.

_"I take leave of you now,_

_Shoma Maghri_

_(formerly Sakurazuka Ajirin)_


	39. Chapter 41

Only about 13 more chaps to go (pauses to catch breath).

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 41**

Finally, at the end of March, the temperatures had started to rise ever so slightly, announcing the slow arrival of spring. As Huki snuggled with Hanadzima in her family's comfortable living room, the possibilities for new dating opportunities flitted through his mind. Once the weather was warm enough, and the melting snow stopped freezing into ice overnight, he and Dzima could go to the park, or the cliffs overlooking the sea, or he could show her his garden one day…

Huki's thoughts skidded to a stop as he felt the presence of an unrelenting stare aimed at the back of his head. Dzima's little brother, Hozo, was checking on them again. Huki sighed softly. Hozo, six years younger than his sister, was just as enigmatic as she was. Dzima once told him what kind of mental power Hozo had, but his nervousness from Hozo's stare rendered his memory shaky. It occurred to Huki that the arrival of spring not only meant more outdoor opportunities, it meant more opportunities for him to be truly alone with Dzima.

Suddenly, the menacing presence disappeared. Hanadzima had sent Hozo an undisguised threat, via her waves, to do serious bodily harm if he didn't leave immediately.

"I'm sorry about Hozo," Hanadzima lifted her head off Huki's shoulder and ran a hand through her hair. "He's a little too protective of his dear sister." The rat almost didn't hear her words; her demure, monotonous voice held him spellbound.

"Huh? Oh, that's all right," said Huki.

"I agree with you. Once it gets warm again, we can go out where there are no relatives to spy on us." It had taken some time, but such omniscient statements from Hanadzima no longer surprised Huki. As he'd become better acquainted with her famous waves, he'd gradually learned their ways until they no longer intimidated them. Hanadzima now possessed such fine control over her waves that she could almost read people's minds; her ability to interpret waves had gotten that accurate. However, as she told Huki, she made a point of not using her waves for manipulation—the one exception being idiots who dared to threaten her loved ones.

"Huki." Hanadzima had stopped laughing about her relatives' spying tendencies. "How are things going in your family? You haven't told me anything in a while."

"The family?" The arm around Hanadzima's waist slackened slightly as Huki examined the ceiling. "It's been quiet. Very quiet."

Huki remained silent for a while. "But I don't think it'll last. And I don't think that's just my cynicism speaking, either."

Hanadzima agreed wholeheartedly with him, but made no sound or movement. Every time she'd gone over to Shehure's house since the summer, her waves had picked up unusual signals of stress from Huki's guardian. Shehure was keeping an enormous secret, and the same was true for Huki's older brother, Ahame. However, Hanadzima forbore grilling the men, sensing the necessity for silence. She had no clue what they had up their sleeves, and the wondering drove her nearly insane sometimes, but she would be quiet a little longer.

"Asheno's been sick a long time, as you know," continued Huki. "Actually, Hathori thinks he may die this spring. It couldn't be soon enough for me. I wish the curse would just finish him off right this moment."

"You really won't miss him if he dies?"

"He was terrible to you when I brought you to meet him! And not to mention the way he's treated Lhoru, Lhadoman, me, everyone else…" Various horrific memories began to drift through his mind, especially of that pitch dark cabinet Asheno had forced him to sit for hours in when he was a little boy.

"Do you ever worry about the next family head?" The sun's rays slanted through the window.

"I haven't even started thinking about that." Huki's face fell dramatically at the thought, and Hanadzima momentarily regretted asking the question. "Shit, why can't this cycle ever end?"

"Well, Huki, I was thinking…" The words tapered off as Hanadzima slowly recognized an abrupt change in Huki's waves.

"Dzima?" Huki asked concernedly. Seeing an obviously stunned look on Hanadzima's face was a rare event, since hardly anything ever startled her anymore. Her breathing sped up noticeably. "Dzima, are you feeling sick?" His hand automatically went to her forehead.

"They're gone. They're gone." Her face had gone white, and she hyperventilated slightly. The white skin created an eerie contrast with her jet black hair, as though she had turned into a zombie. Suddenly, she lunged at Huki and wrapped her arms tightly around him. The force knocked Huki off balance, and the two sprawled on the floor.

"Dzima!" yelled Huki reflexively, preparing himself for the familiar popping sound that accompanied his transformation into a rat. But all he heard was his own thudding heartbeat in his ears. A minute passed, as Huki lay in shock on the floor with Hanadzima on top, still clinging to him. Nothing happened.

Finally, Hanadzima loosened her grip and raised herself off his chest, her normal color restored to her face. Her eyes still appeared flustered and her facial muscles remained stiff. Her lips twitched, working. Then she smiled, a rare, glorious sun-filled smile out of place with her dark coloring.

"Your animal vibes are gone. You're not a rat anymore!" Hanadzima hugged Huki joyfully, and once again Huki didn't transform.

"I didn't change?" Huki asked dumbly. He felt the softness of Hanadzima's body pressed against his, and the revelation seeped into his mind. "I didn't change. I didn't change!" Daring to hope that it wasn't too good to be true, Huki allowed himself to smile as freely as Hanadzima did, savoring the long-forbidden act of being able to embrace his loved one for real. Both of them began crying happily. Hanadzima's grandmother hovered in the doorway, wondering what on earth was going on.

Meanwhile, Lhadoman had been sparring with Khazuma in the training hall. Lhadoman delivered a sharp punch, and as his left hand connected with Khazuma's protective pads, something stung his wrist and a snapping sound burst into the air. Master and student watched in suspended horror as Lhadoman's precious bracelet fell apart, the bone-white and blood-red beads clattering onto the floor and exploding upon contact.

Khazuma's mind raced out of a natural instinct to cover up the curse; the hall was full of students today. They would all witness Lhadoman's transformation into the monster, and it would be a debacle. Lhadoman stared dully down at the mass of obliterated beads on the floor.

"Shoma-mharu, Lhadoman, are you all right?" Uthani, one of the assistant masters, cautiously asked. By now all the students and assistants had stopped and were staring at Khazuma and Lhadoman.

Of course, thought Khazuma. Karan. This was around the time she should be giving birth…

Two minutes passed, and nothing happened. Uthani hovered behind Khazuma, waiting for a signal from either man.

"I don't feel anything," croaked Lhadoman at long last. "Nothing." None of the usual pain resulting during the transformation into the monster had come, not even a twinge. His head felt light—no, his entire body felt light, as though a grievous burden had flitted away when the dreaded bracelet had shattered. The bracelet he had hated so much, yet was forced to cling to desperately as his only means of remaining in human form. Maybe he had finally been freed of the monster?

Naturally, the news spread like lightning through the cursed inner circle of the Shoma family, with Dzuni frantically hugging members of the opposite sex to see if it was really true, that the curse had somehow ended. Once a week, then another, had passed without any sign of the curse returning, the Dzuni relaxed and their fears that it had only been a remarkable lapse diminished. Every Dzuni was overjoyed, except for the four oldest.

Those four were now meeting in Shehure's house. The teenagers had gone for a night out on the city, to celebrate their liberation from the curse. Shehure, Hathori, Ahame, and Hatharu had the house to themselves, and they sat in the living room, struggling with their mixed feelings of ecstasy, uncertainty, and anxiety for the future.

Truthfully, tonight's gathering had a specific purpose: to reveal the plan to Hatharu. The three friends had decided it best to begin with the next oldest Dzuni, the level-headed one who had most contact with Asheno. Sooner or later they would have to confess to their feared family head.

"Hatharu, you're absolutely sure Asheno doesn't suspect?" Hathori watched his stoic younger brother very carefully. The bird's face could be quite blank and difficult to decipher often. Naturally, Hathori had the most expertise of reading Hatharu's expressions. It seemed to the doctor that Hatharu had begun to get a little more emotional since he started dating Lhoru's friend, the former gangster. Behind Asheno's back, of course. These days Hatharu smiled a little more easily, improving every day. The normally silent man had begun to make small talk with the servants and other Dzuni. Everybody had remarked upon that particular change to Hathori.

Hatharu looked straight across the coffee table at his brother. "No. Asheno's still too ill to pay enough attention to the Dzuni." As Asheno's personal servant, the task of placing cool cloths on Asheno's hot forehead, feeding him in small spoonfuls, and attempting to soothe his fretful sleep went to Hatharu. His drawn face revealed the strain that constant care of the family head had put upon the bird. "He doesn't even notice my absences. When I go out to see Zhula," he added in response to Ahame's confused look.

"So you've got a love life now? Well, miracles will happen," remarked Ahame, grinning. "I never knew it was possible for you to set foot outside the main estate!"

Hatharu permitted the snake a small smile. He didn't know most of the Dzuni well, except for his own brother.

"Are you always going to serve Asheno?" Hathori shot Shehure an exasperated look for asking Hatharu such a thorny question. How like the dog to bring up a sensitive issue. Seeing Hatharu's acute discomfort, Hathori moved quickly to steer the conversation back to its original purpose.

"Forget it, Hatharu. We have something else much more important to tell you. It's about how the curse was broken." The dragon took a deep breath. Now the hard part was coming; Hatharu's reaction would give them their first sense of how everyone else would handle learning how the curse had finally met its end.

"A friend of Khazuma, who works with antiquities," continued Hathori, slowly and articulating his words clearly, "has done extensive research into the curse. He found scrolls describing the Dzuni, and one of those contained a…er, recipe for breaking the curse."

"Mm-mm," nodded Hatharu, listening attentively, his head perfectly erect. Shehure observed Hatharu intently, while Ahame glanced back and forth between the two brothers.

"This recipe called for the dragon, wolf, and serpent to plant their seed in someone who possessed the blood of a dark sorceror."

"What?" Hatharu's mouth had dropped open, and he reprocessed the words inside his head. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "Magic?" Personally, he'd never given the old magical beliefs much thought. However, plenty of Hothans took it for granted that certain people possessed magical abilities, and magic was still very much a part of the cultural consciousness. Just the other day Zhula had been telling Hatharu about her dear friend Hanadzima, who could paralyze people with psychic waves. Of course, thought Hatharu wryly, the Dzuni itself was nothing but supernatural, but it had been a painful fact of life for him to deal with.

"W-wait…" stammered Hatharu. "I don't understand the second part. All three of you had to impregnate a sorceror? Is that what it says? How did you know it would work? It sounds…well, frankly, it sounds like gibberish."

"I'll answer the last question first," said Hathori, sighing and resting his head on his folded hands. "It sounded incredible to all three of us when Khazuma first told us. Shehure has tried other methods to break the curse, but it goes without saying that none of them worked."

"I was feeling desperate, you see, my dear Hatharu," explained Shehure. "So I was quite willing to listen to crazy-sounding theories. The family is insane to begin with. One night soon after Lhoru saw Lhadoman's true form, Khazuma came back here. He brought an ancient piece of paper that his friend the antiquities specialist had found."

"That scroll still haunts my dreams," muttered Ahame.

"It was written by the first Dzuni god who suffered under the curse," continued Shehure. "On her deathbed, actually. I've copied down the words." The dog took a folded piece of notebook paper out of his hekasho's sleeve and passed it to Hatharu. Still looking doubtful, Hatharu carefully unfolded it and began to read.

Shehure kept talking. "Khazuma's friend did research on the family history, and discovered that the family used to have strong connections to a religious cult based on animals, which existed long before the curse started. Anyhow, there used to be a person in the family who served as a sort of high priest for the cult. And as you've probably guessed, Hatharu, 'Sakurazuka' means 'dark power' or 'wise power' in archaic Hothan."

"But there's more." The question forming on Hatharu's lips died immediately. "Khazuma's friend's research revealed that this high priest was never related to the family by blood; it was always an outsider from a different family. Probably a Zi Aldan family. So Khazuma's friend suggested we look outside the family."

Hatharu noticed the pained looks on Hathori's and Ahame's faces, while Shehure went on in the tone of someone attempting to deliver bad news delicately. "You remember Karan, don't you?"

"Karan is involved in this?" Hatharu asked, a vague comprehension beginning to dawn on him.

"Yes. Her surname, Yuljat, translates into 'Sakurazuka.' And when we talked to her, she told us her ancestors ran a secret mystical cult that wielded great power. Karan didn't know anything more, but it was the best we ever had to go on."

"And all three of you had to sleep with her?" A perverted image of a three-way formed in Hatharu's mind, and he hurriedly brushed it aside. Now he understood why Hathori had been so troubled the last several months and how depressed he'd been when Karan left for reasons that had been so unclear to the family.

"No, we didn't all sleep with her," responded Hathori brusquely. "I merely artificially inseminated her with samples from all three of us."

"B-but how did you know it would work?" sputtered Hatharu. "It's a huge risk to take with a person's life like that."

The corner of Hathori's mouth curved; he'd reacted much the same way the first time he'd heard it from Shehure and Khazuma. "The truth is we didn't know it would work," admitted Hathori. "I was opposed to it at first. But then we talked to Karan, and she insisted. She said if it would free me from the curse…" His voice choked and Ahame patted Hathori's back. No one said anything for a long time.

"Two weeks ago, when the curse ended, that was when the baby was born?" queried Hatharu.

"Yes," said Shehure. "Karan wouldn't tell us whether it was a girl or boy. She wants to surprise us."

"Where did Karan stay?"

"We sent her to Lhose. All three of us contributed money to support her. We had to keep her as far away from Asheno, you understand, and Lhose was the best place. Lhose has always been a stronghold of the Ghumani family, our traditional enemies. She's still there by the way—we believed it safest to wait until after Asheno had been told. You agree, don't you?"

"Yes," affirmed Hatharu, "if Asheno even recovers. This might even kill him."

Shehure chuckled. "I seriously doubt you would mind that, Hatharu."

Once again, Asheno mulled over the worst day of his life. A sweet summer breeze blew through the open window the former god leaned against. He'd decided to open the window just this once—there'd been so much upheaval in his life recently, and opening one window would not change matters. He rested his arm on the windowsill, and put his head down. The pleasant breeze and the beautiful shine from the moonlight evoked a dull resentment from Asheno. For two weeks now, he'd been unable to sleep. Half a year ago, he had thought he could not possibly hate any female creature more than Lhoru, but Karan and her little bastards dethroned her.

No, that was not right. There was someone he hated above all other people. The one he was convinced had persuaded Karan, Hathori and everybody else to betray their god. The one he, Asheno, had confided in and put his trust in so often during the years.

Shehure.

Asheno growled as he remembered the day two weeks ago when that smug, lying filth of a human being had appeared before him. Then, with a supremely self-confident smile, he'd had the audacity to inform his god that the curse had been broken.

"What are you talking about? Have you been drinking?" Asheno had asked scornfully, but nevertheless uneasy with Shehure's unflinching statement.

The dog called a girl servant over to him, and hugged her in front of Asheno. Two weeks later, Asheno could still feel the acute shock flood his body as the memory returned. Shehure never transformed.

Then he told Asheno that the curse had been broken for almost three months! Three months! His beloved Dzuni had kept it secret from him for three months! Asheno stood up abruptly and slammed the window shut with venom. Huffing, he paced the darkened room.

And now, his Dzuni were making plans, plans that did not include their god. It was like those sappy children's stories Asheno had always despised—a happy ending for everyone! Asheno was sure Hathori would marry Karan, the little slut. She'd had triplets. Asheno once saw the babies, from a distance. He couldn't bear to go near them because they reminded him of their Dzuni fathers too much. The girl resembled Ahame exactly, and the two boys favored Shehure and Hathori. From what Asheno heard, Karan and Hathori would keep their son, Shehure would raise his, and Ahame would take the girl. Earlier, Asheno heard some servants chattering about Ahame's engagement to his employee Mhine. She'd probably seduced him for his money, the little whore.

Meanwhile, he, Asheno, was to be denied the privilege of dying, surrounded by the Dzuni. He would not join his predecessors, who had gloriously suffered to protect their Dzuni from the intrusion of the outside world. Asheno stopped pacing and dropped heavily onto his comfortable old chaise.

"How much better it would be to be dead," he murmured into the unanswering darkness. He'd not had the heart to banish the Dzuni from his sight forever. The thought of never seeing them again was still beyond his capability to handle. Oh, he got angry when he saw one of them walking about the estate, especially if it was Shehure, but they had the sense to avoid him unless he specifically requested their presence. Maybe he really would be better off just committing suicide; that would be better for all concerned. He should've died two months ago, when he was very nearly on the brink of death. But his body had miraculously rallied.

On the other hand, if they could break the curse, perhaps he could bring it back. If his Dzuni had been able to use magic, their god ought to be able to, as well. After all, they had the same cursed blood flowing in their veins. Asheno became more alert as he turned the thought over in his mind. Yes…and perhaps, just perhaps, he would also be able to wreak his godly vengeance on that damned dog. He was Shoma Asheno, the head of one of Lhasa's richest and most powerful families. Yes, it had to be possible. Someday, he could die with his Dzuni by his side, never to escape the curse again.

Almost forty years later, Asheno lay in his hotel bed in Lhose, recuperating well from his feverish bout. He'd argued ferociously with the Dzarans, but finally he'd sensed that persuading them in person would by the only way to get them yield Shuro. That was the only reason he'd traveled to this accursed town, founded by and still loyal to his family's archnemeses, the Ghumanis. The two families' rivalry no longer resulted in open bloodshed as it had in the old days two centuries ago, but the tensions had merely found subtler outlets in politics and economics.

Lhose brought back all the memories of Karan and the curse's breaking, which was the second reason he despised this little oasis in the midst of the godforsaken Ashomi Waste. It was perhaps fitting, mused Asheno, that scum like the Ghumanis should have such a miserable, barbarian little town associated with them, and that the Shomas had Lhasa and Hareth, the respective economic and cultural centers of Hoth, under their control.

Asheno smiled, his outlook brightening slightly. No doubt that since he was here in person now, he would be able to retrieve another of his resurrected Dzuni.


	40. Chapter 42

Cucumber Lady and Ferocia: thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy the rest.

As always, feel free to review. So...we've found out how the curse was broken, but there's still the unresolved manner of the new Dzuni vs. Asheno. Who will explode first?

Disclaimer: FB isn't mine, and nor is anything else that you recognize. I borrowed the Shuro episode from Yuu Watase's Ceres (which I also don't own!).

**Chapter 42**

Shoma Shala wandered about the hallways of her father Shehure's house. Her mother hadn't returned from errands yet, and Shala wanted to make sure she was all right. Today was the seventeenth anniversary of her brother's disappearance.

As the youngest of the five daughters Shehure had with Mahalina, Shala had been only six years old when Asheno summoned Hararu to the main estate. She remembered what he looked like only because he had resembled Shehure exactly. Otherwise, all Shala could recall was that she adored him because he played with his baby sister often. Unlike her eldest sister Anha, she hadn't paired up with Hararu to pull pranks on their parents, or walked to school together with him. Her knowledge of his personality stemmed from her vague memories of adoration and her older sisters' reminiscences.

Due to Shala's young age at the time, she picked up only the tension from her parents when Hararu didn't return from the main house for a long time. Then her mother had started crying a lot, and Shehure rarely slept well, and spent much of his time yelling into a phone. Anha, Zhumara, and Neza, her three eldest sisters, were also irritable and anxious. Shala and Mathara, the second youngest girl, began to cling to each other, and found comfort in long hours of make-believe.

No one told Shala the full truth until she was in her last year of high school. Shehure finally decided all of the girls should know about the old family curse and its fallout. The girls were old enough, and he believed he owed them an explanation for his thorny relationship with the family's head, Asheno. At that point, they did not have a viable relationship: Asheno had effectually banished Shehure and the other Dzuni from his presence, and Shehure despised him because he was convinced Asheno had taken Hararu and the others to bring back the curse.

The most shocking part to Shala had not been the curse itself; rather, it was that so many children had been summoned by Asheno to the main estate and disappeared. Many of them were cousins of Shala's, but she didn't know most of them well, except for her uncle Hatsuharu's children, and Hotohori and Ahama. Each Dzuni's eldest child had gone missing at the main estate, and in same cases, some Dzuni lost all of their kids. For example, Hatsuharu and Rin had lost both their son and daughter. Shala forced herself not to rehash Rin's depression and the hard times. Most of the affected parents had undergone long periods of depression, actually. They were still together, all the Dzuni, their spouses, and children. It was odd, thought Shala, that the curse should still pull the family together so tightly after being broken for so long. The family had never dispersed, as some of its members had loftily predicted.

Somehow, after he'd summoned the "the thirteen" (as the doomed group of teenagers was known), Asheno had managed to effectively silence the servants, a miracle within a family known for chatty servants. A servant occasionally went missing here and there, but no rumor could ever be verified. Thus wild speculation reigned. The thirteen had become Asheno's personal servants, and he never let them out, just as he once treated Hatharu. Or perhaps they'd been sent to a remote location deep in the mountains, maybe even to Lhose. Or Asheno sent them to Gogotha and Zi Alda. However, he'd definitely bribed the police to keep from investigating. Shala knew that for sure—the Shomas were more than rich enough to do so, and had probably been bribing the police at least since the curse's nativity.

Shala's stomach growled. She'd overslept that morning, and skipped breakfast in order to attend orientation for new faculty members at Karori High School. Classes would start in five weeks. As Shala poured canned vegetable soup into a beat-up pot, she dared to mull over the dreaded thought everyone held strictly off-limits: that Asheno had killed all thirteen. It seemed the most logical conclusion. Otherwise, it was too strange that for the last seventeen years, no sign of the thirteen had emerged, even when rumors were investigated and people questioned. Privately, Shala was convinced her father also believed they were dead, but like everybody else, he didn't have the heart to admit it to anyone. That was obvious to Shala the night he gave them the long explanation about the curse, and told them he was sure Asheno had tried to bring back the curse.

Shehure relayed to his family the story Hathori brought back of having seen babies that appeared suspiciously like Dzuni babies over fifteen years ago. Since then, Asheno had expressly forbade Hathori to return to the main house without his permission. Apparently the curse was back, but in a subdued form, if Hathori remembered correctly. Those babies didn't change when hugged by the opposite sex…

The other surprise from that night was the revelation that Hotohori and Ahama were Hararu's half-siblings through the same mother. Upon hearing the news, Zhumara had immediately declared the plan perverted and departed angrily. Zhumara had always tended towards more conservative ideals. Only persistent diplomacy on Anha's part managed to reconcile Zhumara with Shehure and Mahalina again. For her part, Shala found herself gravitating towards Hathori, Ahame, and their wives. They were now like close family to her, and they'd shared the same losses as her family. Shala now knew Karan and Mhine quite well, and had worked part-time for both, assisting them in their tasks.

Finally, the soup was boiling steadily, and Shala turned off the burner. Thinking about such unpleasant matters exacerbated the hollow feeling in her stomach. Shala settled into a chair at the kitchen table, and began eagerly scooping hot soup out of her bowl.

The front door opened. "Mama?" Shala called, liquid sloshing in her mouth. "Is that you?"

"Hi, Shala," said Mahalina, carrying two large grocery bags into the kitchen. The passage of time had been relatively kind to her. Her mousy hair was only just beginning to exhibit small grey streaks, and she still maintained her characteristically wiry body. Occasional bouts of extended crying had deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Mahalina took off her coat, and tossed it willy-nilly over the back of an empty chair. Her neatness habits were quite compatible with those of her husband. Mahalina's old friend, Eghu Dzasa, once remarked that their equal amounts of messiness was one sign she knew Mahalina and Shehure were perfect for each other.

"I wasn't expecting you. Didn't you have orientation at Karori today?" Mahalina riffled through the pantry, and brought out a large container of dried fruits. "Here, have some of these, just soup isn't enough. You starve yourself enough as it is."

"The orientation was only for the morning, Mama," explained Shala. "The heavy-duty stuff doesn't come until later."

"My gods, you slurp your soup as noisily as your father! Sometimes I swear you were born half-dog," sighed Mahalina. "Try to control it when you're eating out in public."

Shala smiled mischievously, and Mahalina thought, as she had so many times before, how similar the facial expressions of her youngest daughter was to those of her father's. Of all the children, Shala seemed to have inherited the most of Shehure's personality. There were differences, of course—Shala did not seem as inclined to selfish manipulation as Shehure, for which Mahalina was deeply thankful. But it could be so hard to tell what the child was really thinking. Though Shala looked exactly like Mahalina (prompting much teasing from Shehure), she did not blurt her emotions freely as her mother did at the same age.

"Anyway, Mama, the orientation went very well. It was so hot, though! There was no air-conditioning whatsoever," groaned Shala, scraping the bowl for the last drops of the soup.

"That's the way it was at my orientation, too." Mahalina grinned, remembering. "Outside was much cooler than inside, and we all sweated through our clothing."

"Since I was already in the neighborhood, I figured I'd drop by," Shala said nonchalantly. She set down the bowl, and faced her mother. From the knowing look Mahalina gave her, it was clear her mother knew the real reason for Shala's visit.

"I'm fine, dear, you don't need to worry so much about me. I have five children to nag, still." Tapping the table's surface with her fingers, Mahalina told herself to be prepared for four other calls from the rest of the girls today. No doubt Anha had ordered the younger girls to check up on their parents today.

"Actually, I'm glad you stopped by today," Mahalina said, taking the bowl and carrying it to the sink. As the water flowed and rinsed the bowl out, Mahalina continued, "I have a favor to ask of you." She decided to let the bowl sit in the sink a few minutes longer, and returned to her chair at the table.

"As you've probably figured out already, Shala," continued Mahalina, "all of the formerly cursed Shomas have been on a sharp lookout the last several years for any sign of young Dzunis."

"Since Hathori saw those babies, yes," Shala nodded. Sometimes Shala thought that was the only thing that had kept some of the ex-Dzunis from completely succumbing to grief and despair. She wondered how many of them thought the new Dzuni were the children of the missing thirteen. Shala had long ago theorized that this was so, although she was much more unwilling to consider how Asheno brought it about.

"Right, Shala." Mahalina sighed. She and Shehure talked about this topic many times recently, and she still felt a pang of conscience at the possibility of getting their daughter entangled with Asheno. "Last year, Karan noticed a boy who resembled your uncle Haru on Sonu Street. But the boy vanished before Karan could speak to him. Later, Mhine happened to see the same boy going into Mhagenu Junior High."

"That's the school right near the main estate, isn't it?" Shala asked. "But why would Asheno send them out into the open if he doesn't want anyone to know about them?"

"Your father thinks only a few Dzuni might actually be in Lhasa now. It would be easier for Asheno to control the movements of a few Dzuni, rather than all thirteen, at one school. Besides, Shala, bringing in tutors for home-schooling would also carry its own risk. Asheno would have to keep them quiet."

"True…" Shala frowned. Personally, if she'd been the one trying to hide a group of children from the outside world, there would have been no necessity to educate them at all. Why not just isolate them?

"Remember, Asheno is insane," said Mahalina, observing the doubtful expression on Shala's face. "I never liked him the few times I saw him, because there was always something wrong with his behavior. Honestly, I still can't explain why after all these years. Maybe it was drunkenness from the drinking parties I went to with Hana, Hathori, Ahame and your father, but it was a gut feeling I just had, and still have."

"Drinking parties? You haven't told us about that!" A bemused smile graced Shala's face.

Mahalina chuckled, and tossed a piece of dried fruit into her mouth. Still chewing, she said, "That's a story for later." She became serious again, and patted Shala's hand. "Dear, I know you don't understand what I mean about Asheno's insanity. It's hard to comprehend if you've never seen or spoken with him, which you haven't, thank goodness—but please take my word for it. In any case, your father thinks it's lucky you'll be teaching at Karori at just the time these Dzuni should start entering high school."

"Why in Ghobrin would Asheno send these kids to the same high school as the last Dzuni? That's too loony, even if he's as crazy as everyone says he is!"

"No, no, Shehure and I agree with you completely." Mahalina scooped a handful of dried fruit from the crumpled bag. "We also think it's unlikely they'd be sent to Karori. But kids from different high schools always talk to each other, and if there really is a new group of Dzuni going to one of the high schools, you'll quickly hear about them. Your father and I would like you to keep your ears sharp for any rumors about unusual-looking students. There'll be plenty of other normal Shomas attending high school, but you'll learn to differentiate them from the Dzuni, if they do exist."

"So I'm supposed to spy and report back to you?"

"Well, yes, something like that." Mahalina winced, but the conspiratorial smile on Shala's face slightly eased her fears of being seen as a manipulative parent.

"I shall do my best to fulfill my sacred duty," Shala declared, mocking the stereotypical heroes in the horrible fantasy books she loved to read in primary school. Shehure would always gripe when it came time to purchase such books for Shala's birthday, and Mahalina would remind of his countless risqué romance novels.

"Of course, what should I do if the Dzuni end up at Karori?"

"Um…" Damn, thought Mahalina, Shehure and I didn't think that through. "Well, just don't get involved with them and talk to us first. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

_Hatsuharu_

For three weeks, the Dzarans had refused to give custody of Shuro back to Asheno. The impasse between the two sides became steadily more antagonistic as the two weeks passed. The strain was evident from Asheno's increasingly short temper and sour moods, and the rising anxiety the three of us felt being around Asheno. I found myself glancing at Haku whenever we were in Asheno's presence, to cut off any chance of his picking a fight with Asheno.

As the temperatures finally rose outside, we began to venture outside more often, to my relief. The mushy ground from the quickly melting snow pulled at our boots and splashed with each step, but we were too happy to escape from Asheno and see colors other than white covering the landscape. I was amazed to see hardy yellowish-green plants and bushes begin to appear a week after the great melting, much less any vegetation in this hellhole. The murin farms bustled with activity as the creatures woke from their hibernation and left their nests, shedding their winter coats. We regularly saw the weavers and dyers leave the factory stores with large bags full of murin fur. Children ran gaily in the squelching mud, and suddenly the streets of Lhose filled with people. Lhoseans never wasted the all-too-brief summer season, and I would've been the same.

The night after we first arrived, Tori introduced Shuro to me and Haku, after his performance at our hotel.

"No wonder you didn't want me to flirt with you, Hotohori," Shuro exclaimed, "when you've got these fine specimens looking after you! I had no idea you were such a player!"

As usual, Tori took the comment too seriously. "They are not my boyfriends, Shuro," she hissed.

"Take it easy, Tori," I said, still marveling at Shuro's inexplicable tan and vaguely disturbed that I'd thought Shuro had a beautiful face for a boy. I'd never had any remotely homosexual thoughts before, and I tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks.

"Yes, you need to lighten up," agreed Shuro. "It's time for some drinks!"

"Oh, no," moaned Tori. Shuro smiled wolfishly, and turned to me.

"Have you tried any Lhose drinks yet?" Shuro asked me, his eyes innocently wide.

"Well," I started, noticing the barely detectable reddish tinge on Shuro's face, and leaving it to a trick of the stage lights. "No, I haven't. What are they like?"

"They pack a punch, Hatsuharu," Tori said resignedly.

"Let's try some, then." Haku's voice jolted me. He'd been silent the entire time, and his presence forgotten. An amused smirk crawled onto his face when I looked at him.

"We'll try a variety, not just the grape," decided Shuro after considering the drink possibilities. Tori's lips tightened. All three of us were ill with hangovers the next morning. At least we were oblivious when Asheno visited to call Haku and me idiots.

Today, I sat with Haku, Tori, and Shuro in Shuro's room at his parents' house. We were totally silent, in contrast to the frequent bursts of yelling from the family room, where Asheno was meeting with the Dzarans. I had tried to convince Asheno not to take us along with him, but he'd been adamant. From what I could hear of the argument, Asheno couldn't understand why the Dzarans wouldn't let Shuro go, and the Dzarans didn't want to tell him the real reason why. Truthfully, I couldn't figure out why either.

"Can you give me one concrete reason Shuro shouldn't leave Lhose? One…reason...that…makes…sense?" growled Asheno. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. "Don't tell me Shuro would be depressed to leave Lhose! Anybody would be happy to LEAVE Lhose!"

"That's true, I would be happy to leave Lhose," murmured Shuro lifelessly. It was the first time he'd spoken since the argument began an hour ago. Well, it had started out as a reasonably calm discussion of conflict of interest, but as I say, the situation deteriorated. Shuro lay on his bed, staring up at the off-white ceiling. The room was messy, with CDs and sheets of notebook paper with scratched-out lyrics scattered everywhere. Shuro evidently didn't believe in making up his bed, or keeping his clothes organized. I'd had to remove a carelessly tossed shirt before I could sit on a beanbag. Posters of well-known Hothan musicians covered the walls, and I recognized all of them.

"Asheno hasn't started throwing anything yet," observed Haku. "That's surprising."

"Asheno's not too pleasant, eh?" asked Shuro, sitting up at last. Tori looked worriedly at me, and I found myself at a loss for what to say.

"Tell us why we should give him up to the likes of you!" screeched Mrs. Dzaran, a stumpy little woman I immediately disliked when I stepped in the door. The husband was a colorless man, long cowed into silence by his wife, I guessed. "You come in here demanding us to give up our only child, and you have the audacity to yell at us!" Blatant rudeness to a Lhose native is a major social sin.

"You are breaking our agreement!" snapped Asheno. Our guardian is a master of gaining the advantage in a screaming match, and today he was in fine form. "At this rate, I may be forced to sue you. And I know how loath the likes of you are to become involved with a Shoma. I'm the only reason you have more money than the average Lhosean." I could imagine the superior leer appearing on his face now, and I glanced at Shuro, concerned about his reaction to finding out he was raised only for money. Shidora, our tiger, had not reacted well to the news.

A pregnant pause followed. "No, Shuro will stay here, with the only family he's known." Mrs. Dzaran was a brave person to talk back to Asheno like that, I will admit. "His father and I decided long ago. He will stay here and earn money for the family, through his music. I will not let a man like you take possession of him!"

"No!" yelled Shuro. "No!" He leapt off his bed and ran wildly out the door, his eyes bulging. We followed him out the door, drawn by the urge to watch the ensuing drama.

"Shuro! Get back to your room this instant!" Mrs. Dzaran's face had turned purple with rage.

"No, Mother! Why can't I decide my own future? You know Lhasa has better exposure for musicians!" Shuro begged desperately. For the first time I noticed his voice had risen in pitch. "I hate this place! It's too cold, and I always have to wear warmer clothes than everybody else! I don't look like anyone else, and people always stare at me! I want to leave!"

Asheno had withdrawn, letting Shuro engage his mother in battle alone. I stood behind Haku in the doorway, resisting the urge to rush in and separate Shuro and Mrs. Dzaran, gripping her crying son by the shoulders.

"Shuro, Shuro," she cooed while simultaneously glaring at him, as though trying to remind him of something without being forced to speak it aloud. "You know perfectly well we've always loved you, and taken good care of you. People in Lhose love your music, and you are more successful than you probably would ever be in Lhasa. It's so competitive there. We only have your interests at heart, darling." She squeezed his shoulders.

"My interests? My interests? It's in my best interest to freeze and live in a icy, hick town forever?" roared Shuro, no longer crying. The floor and door frame vibrated slightly, causing me to stand straight up. Tori gasped, and Haku flinched from the strong harithe-like sensations. Such powerful windstorms made buildings shake as the house was now doing from Shuro's voice.

"Shuro, no!" whispered Mrs. Dzaran, sensing the vibrations. "Lower your voice! You'll destroy the house!"

"You've only been concerned about yourselves and the town! Never about me!" Shuro continued bellowing at the same volume. A crystal vase on the coffee table shattered, spraying glass over the scarlet patterned rug and forcing Asheno to cautiously step away from the broken glass. "You wanted the money this man gave you! Oh, yes, I know about the frickin' contract! You left it lying around and I read it a year ago!" Cracks began snaking through the wall containing our door frame, and I quickly pushed Haku and Tori into the room and away from the wall.

"Shuro, please!" I yelled, "it's going to collapse!" He actually heard me and fell silent, breathing hard and eyes still fixed on his mother. Mrs. Dzaran now had her hands over her mouth, fearing for the house and, quite possibly, her life. Apparently she decided to throw caution to the wind, and tried to use Shuro's silence to her advantage.

"Shuro, please think about what would happen if you went to Lhasa and your voice were to get out of control…"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" yelled Shuro, though at a manageable volume. "I only lose control of my voice when I lose control of myself! It doesn't have a mind of its own!"

"But it's not normal!" shrieked Mrs. Dzaran. Asheno listened closely, as did the rest of us.

"There! Right there! Even you think I'm a freak! And thanks to your small-town schizo superstitions, you think I'm the god returned from the dead to destroy Lhose!"

"What does he mean?" a confused Haku asked Tori.

"It's an old story around here," whispered Tori back. "After five hundred years, the evil gods of Thika would be reborn and destroy Lhose. Shuro told me."

"But Shuro, when you were a baby, glass would shatter when you cried, and you only got more powerful as you grew! The neighbors started to notice and whisper about you—" pleaded Mrs. Dzaran.

"It's just a myth, dammit!" Shuro stamped his foot.

"Shuro! I had to—"

"How does a myth, a goddamn MYTH, justify dressing me up as a boy and messing me up for life?" Ripping and popping occurred as Shuro grabbed his shirt and violently pulled it apart, revealing what was clearly a woman's chest, albeit an underdeveloped one. Shuro stood still, his…her chest heaving with each breath, bared for unrestricted viewing. A stunned silence ensued, with Mrs. Dzaran collapsing into a chair and staring at Shuro's chest like everyone else.

"Boobs?" I said faintly, almost reflexively, finally ending the silence. Shuro and I blushed simultaneously, and Shuro hurriedly closed the shirt over her chest again. Haku sniggered, and instantly forgetting my embarrassment, I elbowed him. Shuro began sobbing softly, pushed her way through us, and ran back to her room.

"Mrs. Dzaran," spoke Asheno evenly and coolly, "I expect that Shuro will be packed and ready to leave for Lhasa in two days' time. I shall send my servants over, if you need the extra help." He smiled condescendingly at the white-faced woman. "Thank you for your cooperation. The terms of our contract have been fulfilled."


	41. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: FB does not belong to me, and nor does anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 43**

_Haku_

A welcome reprieve from Asheno finally arrived with the coming of the "good half" of autumn in September: our first year of high school at Karori. At last, summer had ended. I knew we had more tribulations ahead of us, but at least we could leave the main estate and not be under Asheno's watch all day and night. Last night, when our esteemed head gathered us together, he insisted on having us return to the main estate immediately after classes ended everyday. I glanced at Hatsuharu, and he likewise rolled his eyes. Undoubtedly we'd be able to erode that rule, because it was inevitable various school commitments would surface. A few chauffeurs might get fired for "laxness" in their failure to escort us back home on time, but my desire for freedom beat out my social conscience.

Lhurone and Hatsumi would be exempt, naturally, since they needed to be home-schooled. They'd fallen too far behind in their education to attend high school with the rest of us. Lhurone took a rather philosophical perspective to home-schooling, saying, "Well, I did play hooky from age ten on up" with a casual shrug. However, Hatsumi is much trickier because he tried to conceal his difficulty reading for a long time. As a result, we're very careful to avoid the subject around him.

Most of the rules Asheno gave us last night were ridiculous. For example, no friends. Of course some of the other Dzuni will sneak around that one. Both Khosure and Shuro are too social, and enjoy being the center of attention. Shuro's theatrical flair is surprisingly well developed for a native of Lhose (Gods, I never thought we'd return to Lhasa). I agree with Tori that I'd be utterly depressed if I had to actually live in that hellhole. Frankly, Shuro's dramatic tendencies irritate me often. I tolerate her only because Hatsuharu has clearly fallen for her and she's a tortured Dzuni like the rest of us. (Khosure joked that the moment Shuro revealed her true gender was when Hatsuharu became smitten with her. Unfortunately for Hatsuharu, that joke has stuck.)

Well, no, I don't hate her…that is much too harsh. It makes me sound as judgmental as Faran-Zhuku. When I see Shuro trying to adjust to being a girl after so many years being dressed and treated as a boy, moving to a new, very different city, becoming part of a dark and mysterious family, and attempting to hide all her insecurities with her outgoing personality, I pity her, and I have to give her some credit for bearing up reasonably well. She's had a few crying fits that left servants sweeping broken glass afterwards and an ache in my sensitive ears.

Only four more Dzuni to go—the rat, rabbit, monkey, and Asheno's much-loathed cat. Asheno told us the rat, rabbit, and monkey would be starting school at Karori the same time, and they'd move to the main estate after settling in at Karori. He said nothing about their characters, and if the last summer and spring indicate anything, it means these new Dzuni are giving him trouble. I expect school will be a circus, then, if the rat, rabbit and monkey are anywhere near as disturbed as the rest of us.

Once again, Asheno brushed off my questions about the cat with the same excuse: "There have been unforeseen difficulties. He will arrive later in the semester. I don't particularly like that Dzuni spirit, so it doesn't matter greatly to me, anyway." The corner of his mouth twitched as a disgusted look flickered across his face. Thus, I know nothing more about the new cat besides his being a man. Eh well, I can't think too much about it if he's not here.

Speaking of absences, Faran-Zhuku fell silent after finishing the tale of the curse's breaking. I haven't heard even his familiar rumbling growl for three weeks, but I can still sense his presence within me. At first, when I hadn't heard anything for a week, I panicked and thought he'd died. Then, I became surprised I was upset over his possible death. In the dead of night, I suddenly felt a chill ooze through my body, and instinctively knew he still existed. Afterwards, I was just tired and relieved—relieved that he wasn't dead and that he was leaving me alone. My worn-out body has recovered nicely during the last three weeks, and I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to walk without the queer lightheadedness from sleep deprivation and the fatigue that seemed to weigh my limbs down with rocks. Faran-Zhuku is a part of me, but he may kill me someday.

Today, as I walked through the black gates enclosing Karori, I was the least nervous of all the first-year students. The visions acquainted me so well with the school's grounds and interior that I practically had no trouble finding my way around. Karori had been renovated heavily, thanks to donations from the Shomas and other rich Mhagenu families, since the time of the curse's end. The crumbling brick and masonry have been restored, and a new gym built with modern equipment. The faded paint and scratched floors have been retouched, or in some cases, replaced. Everything at Karori shines now, much more so than I ever saw in the visions. It was quite a renovation job, since the school is large enough to accommodate 4,000 students. Very easy to lose yourselves among the masses of students, it is. Karori is a fairly easy place for a boy possessed by a half-crazy wolf ghost to hide his secrets.

The flip side of my special advantage was being subject to flashbacks of what had occurred within these hallways and classrooms. Ironically, I'd been assigned to the same homeroom class that Huki, Lhadoman, and Lhoru once belonged to: 1-6. None of my fellow Dzuni were in 1-6. As I sat in my desk in the back of the room, listening to my elderly male teacher stumble over pronunciation as he called the roll for the first time of the year, I kept recalling the scenes between Huki, Lhadoman, and Lhoru in this classroom. The curious glances my classmates gave me made it clear my exotic looks would make me stand out as much as I did at my old school. Suddenly I found myself wishing some of the other Dzuni were in the same class, so I wasn't the only one getting stared at. I concentrated on ignoring my classmates, and paid no attention to the teacher's announcements. His voice was so quiet that I doubted many of the students could hear, anyway. More pressing issues demanded my time, such as how to break free of Asheno's grip.

In Hothan high schools, first-years have the same standardized and mandatory curriculum. No elective subjects are allowed the first year; instead, students take classes in writing, Hothan history (into which an introduction to Hothan arts and music is woven), physical education (the most hated class), advanced algebra combined with beginning calculus and geometry, Hothan literature, and basic chemistry in one term and biology in the other term. Half the first year classes studied chemistry the first term while the second half studied biology, and vice versa for the second term. The first term lasts for four months, with a month-long break during the harshest period of the winter, and then the second term runs for three and a half months.

After the first year, students took classes based on their first-year teachers' recommendations. Advanced classes in the four central subjects (math, science, history, and literature) were available, and electives in music, art, theater, and dance also became options. Karori, thanks to its plentiful pool of rich funders, was renowned for its arts programs. Of course, numerous clubs, teams, and activities operated, from sports to community service to arts and crafts. That was how first-years usually found outlets to stand in for the elective classes closed to them.

Currently, 3,780 students were enrolled at Karori. Incoming first-years were assigned to a homeroom of no more than 30 students. For each of the three years at Karori, approximately 40 homerooms existed. In the case of first-years, their homerooms remained in the same classroom for most of the day, the students moving only for the science and physical education classes. The various first-year subject teachers would move from classroom to classroom.

This traditional theory of education came into being to provide more stability for first-years during what could be a shaky transitional year, but in Shoma Shala's personal opinion, it only resulted in more sleepy students. That had been her experience when she was a high school student as recently as four years ago. She often had three classes in the same room, which meant sitting in the same seat for three hours straight. By the end of those three hours, Shala mused to herself, her heartbeat was barely audible, she'd be so bored. Besides, she'd prefer forcing the students to move rather than the teachers. If the students were already being pressed to exercise in physical education classes, some extra walking wouldn't hurt them.

Shala gathered the materials for her class. She would teach first-year Hothan literature for six different groups of first-years. All her concerns about facing her homeroom students vanished as she swore, unable to find her class roster. Papers containing announcements and the Hothan Literature Department Policy Book crashed onto the floor in front of Shala's cramped cubicle as she embarked on a desperate search. Her cubicle was only a little wider than twice her width, and her elbows kept smacking into the flimsy barriers separating her from her neighbors. "Hey, you, stop that noise!" snapped her cranky, overly made-up neighbor from the left. Shala cursed her father for passing on his penchant for messiness to her, then discovered the attendance sheet crumpled between the pages of a cheap fantasy book she'd just started. Shoving in her plastic chair, Shala grabbed her books and papers, and flew out the department office's door.

"Damn, late for my first homeroom!" muttered Shala. The Hothan Literature Office was located in the midst of the largest first-year locker area in the school, and consequently terrified first-years repeatedly dodged the angry-looking Shala as they rushed to their respective homerooms.

"Oh, Shoma, wait!" Groaning softly, Shala stopped and turned around, facing the speaker. It was her ancient academic mentor, a fellow Hothan Lit teacher who'd been at Karori seemingly since the day it was built seventy-five years ago. Neli, as she had insisted Shala call her, stood barely to Shala's shoulders, and squinted through thick glasses whenever they spoke.

"Yes?" When Neli had something to say, there was no stopping it. A voice inside Shala's mind screamed in frustration as Neli smiled kindly and opened her mouth to speak.

"Now, dearie, there's something important I forgot to tell you," Neli whispered, so no students would overhear. "You are a Shoma yourself, so I'm sure you're familiar with this already—" The voice screamed again as Shala realized she was about to be bombarded with more Shoma anecdotes. Unfortunately, Neli had taught all of her older siblings. In such moments as these, Shala always thanked the gods she'd chosen a different high school—it would've been intolerable to listen to Neli reminisce about Shala as a student. "If you have any Shoma students outside of your immediate family," continued Neli warningly, "try not to become in any major incidents that would get their family head involved. Academic, disciplinary, or otherwise. We always solve problems with Shomas as quietly and privately as possible. They're donors we can't lose." Neli dropped her serious look and smiled pleasantly. "Now, I'm sure you're already late, so shoo. Good luck with your first classes!" With that farewell, Neli began shuffling away from Shala.

Now Shala really was late—ten minutes late. She virtually ran, while fuming at Neli for seeing Shomas only as walking bank vaults. Finally, after descending one set of stairs and walking halfway down a hallway, Shala stood in front of Homeroom 1-23. Shadows floated behind the frosty glass window set into the door. Good, the students hadn't left despite her late arrival. She froze, still panting, and saw a sweaty outline where her hand had been gripping the now horribly crushed class roster. Setting the roster on top of her pile and smoothing it as best as she could, Shala took a deep breath and opened the door.

The soft murmurings subsided quickly as heads looked towards the door. Shala had eyes only for the podium, and lay her pile on the shelf under the surface.

"Good morning," Shala said in a clear voice that didn't betray her anxiety, and made eye contact with her students for the first time. Her tense muscles gradually relaxed as she saw many pairs of eyes reflecting the same anxiety and terror. "I'm sorry I'm late. My name is Shoma Shala, and I'll be your homeroom and Hothan Literature teacher for the year. We'll start by doing the roll call."

Feeling that the worst was over, Shala peered at the first name. "Please tell me if I don't pronounce your name correctly, okay? Let's see…Ashu Khezuke?"

"Here," responded a deep yet timid voice. Shala turned her head to the right, and her stomach then sank as though filled with rocks. The voice's owner sat behind a girl who resembled her uncle Hathori perfectly. The girl examined Shala politely yet critically. The boy sitting behind her, Khezuke seemed huge and muscular to Shala—his knees were jammed against the bottom of his writing surface—but what struck her most were the numerous scars crisscrossing his exposed arms and his face. Good heavens, thought Shala, what kind of accident was he in? Then it occurred to her that he looked quite a lot like her aunt Khagura, who used to be the Dzuni pig. Khezuke had the same brown eyes and hair color, and the same shy personality.

"Um…excuse me, Ms. Shoma, but is there something you want to ask?" Khezuke asked hesitantly, stooping almost imperceptibly.

"I'm sorry, Khezuke, I was thinking about something I had to do." Shala fought the red blush threatening to creep up her neck and resolutely continued with the roll call. The Hathori-lookalike answered when Shala called out "Zhuruth Hotohori." She even has the same name as Tori, thought Shala. There were no other suspect Dzunis or Shoma students in 1-23. The flustered teacher's voice of reason cautioned her not to jump to conclusions, and pointed out that Hotohori and Khezuke had different surnames and might not even be related to the Shomas. Shala delivered the beginning-of-year announcements, then proceeded with her lesson plans.

The day passed in a disembodied sort of way for Shala. Homeroom proved to be merely the first of many Shoma encounters. The characters from the Dzuni family stories her father had reluctantly told his children seemed to have come to life. While walking to her second class, she passed a clone of her uncle Hatsuharu chatting with an energetic silver-haired boy, another Ahame. A blonde girl in her second class possessed the same hyper, bouncy aura as Nharu, who now lived in Gogotha but visited frequently in Lhasa. Shala saw the Hatsuharu clone again in her third class, and he gauged her just as carefully as she'd noticed Hotohori doing. Seeing the name "Shoma Hatsuharu" on her class list jarred her, and afterwards, she heard a girl whisper to a neighbor that the teacher looked a little pale, maybe sick.

Shala failed to notice Shuro in her fifth class, since Shuro didn't fit any known Dzuni profiles. Her sixth and final class fell during the last period of the day, and it passed without any incident. Feeling overwhelmed at the Shoma surge, Shala slowly padded back to the Hothan Lit office, and her disordered cubicle.

"Excuse me?" a familiar voice rose above the general din in the hallway, as she turned the corner towards the Hothan Lit office's corridor. Shala started, but paid no attention.

"Excuse me?" The voice came more insistently, and it was closer. Shala paused in her step, listening, and trying to remember where she'd heard the voice before. "Excuse me, are you Shoma Mahalina?" The speaker was next to her. Shala gasped and dropped her books.

The boy standing near her had the same features as her father, excepting a more olive skin tone and a countenance that hinted at the existence of a fierce wildness. The image of a caged animal rose to Shala's mind as she stared dumbly at the student, who regarded her quizzically with a raised eyebrow. He slowly bent down to gather Shala's scattered books, and Shala managed to mutter thanks.

"Pardon me," said the boy, "I thought you were someone else."

"Uh, t-that's all right," stammered Shala, giggling a little too loudly. "In a big school like this, I keep thinking I'm seeing people I know, so…ah, no harm done."

"What's your name?" Somewhere in the back of her mind, Shala recognized the student was behaving rudely, but her discomfort made her thinking fuzzy. His eyes bore into her own, and she fancied she could spot a red glimmer in one. Stupid, she yelled at herself, pull yourself together! He's not a demon!

"Shoma Shala. I teach first-year Hothan Literature." She saw the boy's lips curve into a cynical smile. He nodded, comprehending some inner message Shala was not privy to.

"From the same family, then," chuckled the boy. A feeble chill ran down Shala's spine. "I'm Haku. Shoma Haku. Sorry for stopping you like this." Haku bowed slightly, and departed. Shala watched until he rounded the corner and passed out of her sight, then she strode briskly into the Hothan Lit office. She brushed by a chattering group of teachers, and headed for her still-messy cubicle.

"Hey, Shoma!" yelled the heavily-painted teacher. "Clean up your messes! We aren't your parents, you know."

"My parents are messy," dryly replied Shala. You hooker, she silently added, flipping through her brand-new copy of the school directory. Yes, Khezuke lived at the main estate, as did Hotohori. Hatsuharu and Haku, too. In the directory, Haku's name was written out in full, and Shala furrowed her brows at it.

The painted teacher was leaning over Shala's shoulder, preparing to scold her more. "Oh, that kid," she said, seeing Haku's name.

"You know him?" asked Shala, shutting the book and facing the other teacher.

"Yeah, Haku's in my fourth-period class." Evident distaste appeared through the heavy blush and mascara. "He's just…scary. The kind that makes me think he's a psycho. I'm not getting caught alone with him, that's for sure." The teacher shuddered and returned to her cubicle.

Twenty minutes later, Hatsuharu stood in an alley one block away from Karori, facing off against a grey-haired teenage girl with purple eyes and a spherical electrical force field surrounding her.

"Ashiri," pleaded Hatsuharu, "please calm down. I'm not going to make you come with me. I just wanted to talk for a moment." The bright white electrical bands crackled loudly, and visibly flickered, deepening Hatsuharu's trepidation. Now he was beginning to regret his decision to chase down the person who was obviously the rat. He'd seen Ashiri waiting for her ride home outside the main doors of the school. All Hatsuharu had wanted was to introduce himself, and now she had him cornered in an alley.

"Leave me alone!" shrieked Ashiri. "I don't want anybody near me!" A new electrical band emerged and took the form of a clawed hand. It lunged forward at Hatsuharu's head, and he dodged just in time. Black scorch marks appeared on the brick where the electricity made contact.

"You could kill someone!" Fleetingly, Hatsuharu wondered if his final destiny was to die by electrocution in an alley that vaguely smelled of dead fish.

"I have killed people by accident before!" Her eyes glowed. Hatsuharu just felt indignant.

"Just stop it, or someone will come!" Even Ashiri had to admit this strange boy spoke sense. The electric bands dissipated into the air.

"Hatsuharu? Was that you?" called Khosure. He peeked into the alley, and his eyes shot open in alarm as he saw a strange girl glaring at him and Hatsuharu sprawled on his side, panting.

"It's all right," Khosure heard Hatsuharu hastily say to the girl, "this is a friend of mine. He won't do anything." Haku came around the corner then, and stood next to Khosure. Right away, Haku recognized the girl for who she was. He also picked up the sound of scuffling claws, and wondered if there were street rats nearby. No visible signs of them appeared.

"Ashiri, relax," said Haku calmly, advancing towards Ashiri and Hatsuharu. Ashiri straightened ominously, keeping her gaze fixed on Haku. "We're all Shomas. You've heard of us by now, haven't you?"

"Yes," replied Ashiri stiffly. "The ones with Shoma Asheno? I'm supposed to join you in a week."

"That's right," said Hatsuharu, who had stood up and was now brushing off his rumpled uniform.

"Oh, you're a Dzuni?" Khosure smiled nervously at Ashiri and walked further into the alley.

"Am I really?" said Ashiri coldly, folding her arms.

"Yes," answered Hatsuharu firmly. "We all have unusual looks and powers like you. I'm Shoma Hatsuharu, the bull. I'm exceptionally strong." He turned to Haku and Khosure, and explained, "Ashiri here can create electrical force fields and attack people with electricity."

"Yep, you're one of us, Ashiri," grinned Khosure. "I'm Ahame Khosure, the snake. I can fry people with my eyes." He batted his eyelids for emphasis.

"And I'm Shoma Haku, the wolf, or dog, as they say in the common Hothan Dzuni. But I'm really a wolf. I see visions of the past, and a ghost wolf comes out of my body every so often. My ghost wolf has a death toll attached to him. So, you see, whatever you were doing to Hatsuharu earlier, you're among your peers now." The frown on Ashiri's face wavered.

"I killed someone by accident," Khosure said softly, suddenly grave.

"Me too. It's hard getting used to powers that can kill," added Hatsuharu, encouraged by Ashiri's eroding front. They had evidently struck the right chord with her. Ashiri stared at the group in front of her, then shook her head violently. She bent to pick up her shoulder bag and left, bumping Khosure roughly on the way out.

"I have to go. My father will be waiting for me." Ashiri strode determinedly, her lithe body proudly erect, and ignoring all the stares from other pedestrians. However, Hatsuharu, Haku, and Khosure hadn't failed to miss her quivering lip as she passed.

The rats stopped stirring after Ashiri's departure.


	42. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 44**

"Why do they make girls wear skirts in this climate?" moaned Shuro. "Skirts are much too drafty." The uniform regulations required female students to wear navy blue woolen skirts that reached to the ankles. Shuro had never worn women's skirts in Lhose; only the traditional men's robes when occasion called for them. It was only the third day of school, so Shuro had not yet had enough time to become comfortable in the girls' uniform.

Munching on a french fry, Hotohori mumbled, "Shuro, you can always wear pants under the skirt. The school administrators live in this cold climate, too, and they sympathize. Believe me."

Hotohori and Shuro sat with Khezuke and Haku at one of the brand-new light blue plastic folding tables in the western half of the school's enormous cafeteria. They'd managed to get one of the coveted tables next to a window, where the sunlight outshone the depressing artificial lighting from the overhead fixtures. The lunch periods were split into three different periods, to prevent overcrowding. The four friends' lunch period fell during the noontime hour, and the other Shomas had lunch after the noontime period. Shuro had been visibly disappointed that she and Hatsuharu couldn't have lunch together.

Khezuke bit into an overstuffed roast beef sandwich, spilling small pieces of lettuce onto his plate. "Shuro, do you always eat so little?" he asked in between chews.

"I've always been a picky eater," said Shuro, "but this cafeteria is pretty good as far as cafeterias go." Her tray consisted of a salad bowl, a bag of dried fruit, and a milk carton, which paled in comparison to the heavy trays of Shuro's three companions. For a while, all four ate busily in silence.

"Hmm! I almost forgot!" exclaimed Shuro, her eyes popping in excitement. "Haku? Have you heard about the wolf?"

"What wolf?" asked Haku, alarmed. "And keep your voice down!"

"Some girls in another class claim they saw a golden wolf in the locker room, while they were changing for P.E. earlier this morning," whispered Shuro conspiratorially, everyone automatically leaning into the table to hear better. "One of those girls has a friend in my class, and I heard them talking. Apparently this wolf charged the girls when it saw them, and they ran away screaming, naturally, but it vanished and didn't hurt any of them. Is the wolf yours, Haku?"

"Well…" Expectant faces turned towards Haku. "Did that classmate of yours describe the wolf in any more detail?"

Shuro nodded vigorously. "She said it was huge, like a lion. And it could go through walls! It eyes glowed red, and paws were as big as dessert plates. Its fur was very shiny and thick."

"No scratches or bald spots?"

"I don't think so. The other girl that my classmate was talking to didn't really believe her, though. It does sound pretty incredible, doesn't it?"

"Not for a school attended by Shomas," grunted Khezuke, rolling his eyes.

"Except for the size and the red eyes, it doesn't fit Faran-Zhuku at all," said Haku, frowning. Almost defensively, he added, "And I know Faran-Zhuku hasn't left my body. He's just sleeping."

"Well, even if the golden wolf's not real, a wild story like that is bound to spread quickly," decided Hotohori. "Haku, I don't suppose you've ever seen or heard of such a creature in your visions?"

"One killer wolf is enough," remarked Khezuke, recalling all the horror stories he'd heard about Faran-Zhuku.

"I agree, it's not likely," concurred Haku, scooping the last of his thin chicken stew.

"Maybe Karori is haunted by spirits?" mused Shuro, intrigued by the idea.

Suddenly, loud clattering noises rent the conversational hubbub, as chairs toppled to the ground and table legs skidded on the ground in the southeastern portion of the cafeteria. Screams of "Wolf!" carried clearly across the cafeteria, and students began fleeing from the eastern section as the lunchroom monitors attempted to restore calm. Everyone in the western half froze in their chairs, confused by the unexpected chaos. The panic spread as people in the midsection began screaming and running. The wolf appeared to be making its way across the cafeteria. People either fled for the doors, or jammed themselves against the opposite walls, trying not to attract the wolf's attention.

"We ought to get out of the way," said Khezuke, standing up and pulling Shuro by the arm. The fear in his eyes indicated he was taking no chances.

"Haku! Where are you going?" yelled Hotohori, watching her friend bolt towards the east. Instinctively, she followed, trailed reluctantly by Khezuke and a frightened Shuro.

"Aieee! Are you crazy?" cried a fleeing upperclass girl as Haku shoved her aside. The girl lost her balance and crashed to the ground. Shala, on monitor duty at the time, helped the blubbering girl to her feet, and watched Haku. Someone was ordering Shala to run, but her curiosity compelled her to stay. I must be an idiot, thought Shala vaguely.

Haku had stopped, and his three friends behind him. Shala didn't recognize the brown-haired girl hiding behind Khezuke, but she was the least of Shala's concerns now. A yellowish glowing ball was approaching Haku's group, and in its midst was what indeed seemed to be an overgrown wolf. The fur shone a dazzling bronze, and its eyes were the color of blood. To Shala, its path looked erratic—the way it turned its head from side to side and darted about reminded her more of a frightened, cornered animal than anything else.

The wolf stilled, as Haku slowly advanced a few steps. Shala wondered if Haku had the power to command canines, and if the wolf was his own doing. Then, as quickly as the wolf had appeared, it dissolved into the air, and the glow faded to nothingness. The terrified students pushed against the wall began to relax. The principal and vice principal arrived at the cafeteria, and they ordered all the remaining students to leave the cafeteria and go to their classes. Approximately two-thirds of the tables had been shifted and many chairs overturned. Puddles and mashed foods dotted the floors where drinks and trays had been dropped or knocked over.

As they walked back to their lockers, Haku, Hotohori, Shuro, and Khezuke were still recovering from the incident.

"What were you thinking, going straight for the wolf like that?" hissed Hotohori.

"It's definitely not under my control," whispered Haku back. "Something, or somebody else, is making it appear."

"Everybody's going to think you're responsible," Khezuke quietly pointed out. "There were plenty of witnesses who saw you going after that ghost." Shuro nodded in grim confirmation.

_Lhurone_

Compared to the kids at Karori, Hatsumi and I were having quite a dull time with our tutor. Asheno purposely hired a university student, named Asherish Ghen, who was badly in need of money. Therefore, he was less inclined to do anything that might endanger the more than generous salary he received, including questioning me, or Hatsumi, about our pasts or the Shoma family. Needless to say, I'm positive Asheno warned him against being even remotely friendly with any Shoma.

We started our sessions with Ghen the day after the others began at Karori, and it's now been a week and a half since Ghen began coming to the estate. Frankly, everybody was surprised that Asheno willingly brought in an outsider to tutor us—it seemed more sensible to find a Shoma. However, all curiosity Hatsumi and I had towards Ghen vanished when we saw how utterly unremarkable he was in every way. His clothing was average and secondhand, he did nothing but study, and he possessed no interest in chatting informally with us. Ghen lacked any personality whatsoever. His specialty was literature, and he understood basic algebra fairly well. Asheno was most concerned with bringing our reading level up to speed, strengthening our writing skills, and getting a good foundation in mathematics, so Ghen fit our needs adequately.

Our tutoring sessions would be in the afternoons, since Ghen had all his classes in the mornings. Ghen was the sort who liked to follow rather rigid routines. He decided that we would start with an hour of reading, then an hour of writing, take a fifteen-minute break, and followed by an hour and a half of mathematics. Then we repeated the cycle once more, and there the long afternoon would end. At least Ghen was well-organized, even if he did teach by rote and preferred to work on his own homework while Hatsumi and I labored over our exercises.

I'd stopped going to school regularly in fifth grade, but Hatsumi, as far as I could tell, had never gone to school. His lack of education is a great embarrassment for him, especially with the others starting high school. I'm embarrassed, too, but I just accept it more easily than poor Hatsumi does. After the first interminable afternoon with Ghen, Hatsumi finally told me about his past. Even Rhena had been unable to squeeze any information out of Hatsumi.

"I was sold to an underground fighting organization," he said, in the privacy of the room I shared with Khosure. Both of us were reclining on the beds, exhausted from grappling with subjects that were very rusty in our minds. Taking pity on us, Ghen cut the session short, after three hours. It'd been especially hard on Hatsumi, and I suppose he felt the need to justify his pitiful lack of education. I was the natural person to talk to because we'd shared a room since his arrival, and we got along well.

"What?" Skipping school because of gang activity I could understand, but I'd never heard of such a thing as an underground fighting organization. "Do you mean a martial arts group?"

"No. This was all-out combat fighting," explained Hatsumi. "You know, no rules. Knives, kicking, biting, anything goes. I wasn't part of a gang, but a gang ran the whole operation. There isn't anything like it east of the Dividing Range, which is why nobody in eastern Hoth really knows anything about these organizations. But there's a lot of them in the west, especially the larger towns. Rhenigroth has the biggest one."

As you know, my Dzuni can't handle violence well since I turned fifteen, so listening to Hatsumi made me feel slightly feverish. These slight illnesses are, I suppose, an "allergic reaction" to anything I think or do that has any violent connotations. As a result, I'm often unwell. But as I've grown better acquainted with my Dzuni's pacifistic ways, I avoid such reactions more easily. Now I took a deep breath and tried to erase the dark images being suggested by my roommate's description of The Den of Sin. This was too good an opportunity to get Hatsumi to open up some.

"So, how were these…organizations set up?" I stumbled as my mouth refused to form "fighting." "And by the way, Hatsumi, if it's possible, try not to be too graphic when you describe it."

Hatsumi acknowledged my request with a small smile. Long ago, he became accustomed to the awkward pauses and "This place was called 'The Den of Sin.' It used to be a medium-sized warehouse, but the gang bought it and converted the first level into a bar and strip club as a cover for the er…more illegal activities, which were mostly underground, in the basement. In the basement, there was a combat ring, and the audience sat around it. The combatants were children."

"Children?" I gasped, horrified, and turning my head towards Hatsumi. He sat up, his face expressionless. It occurred to me how odd it was for me to be so aghast when I'd started doing gang stuff at a young age myself, but things had changed drastically since then.

"Yes, they were usually orphan children, or their parents had sold them for money."

"Which category did you fall under?"

"I was sold. I was there for only two years though; from the first I wanted to escape. Two years felt like eternity in there." Hatsumi fell into silent recollection, his eyes bleak.

"What was life like there?" I asked in as gentle a voice as I could muster. My fever ebbed slightly, but I still dreaded what might be yet to come.

"Well," began Hatsumi tentatively, "the children were anywhere from about five to fifteen years old, usually. We lived in this terrible dormitory, and…I won't go into details." He shuddered. "Anybody who was physically able fought in the 'ring,' as we called it. Good fighters were treated better, got more food and more respect from the supervisors. I was one of the good ones, because of my strength and resistance to head injuries.

"Anyone who got maimed had two options, depending on their sex. Boys usually died, sooner or later. Girls, however, could work as…" Hatsumi's face reddened.

"Pleasure servants?" I suggested.

Hatsumi chuckled dourly. "That's a very polite way of saying it. When kids got older, like around fifteen or so, they either started working for the gang, doing odd jobs, or they were auctioned off to the audience."

The fever started to return, due to the images arising in my mind of the unfortunates who suffered in that slave trade. That's what it was, a slave trade.

"Gods, I never knew something like that existed in Hoth," I moaned, my cheeks flaming.

"Are you all right?" Hatsumi noticed my bright red cheeks.

"Yeah, I'll be okay, just stop talking about the place itself."

"So, I ran away after two years, and managed to hide myself from the gang well enough. They don't let you live if they find you, because they don't want anybody testifying. I worked odd jobs in convenience stores and restaurants, and saved my money. I took my surname from a name I saw on a store sign, and I managed to learn to read and write well enough to keep track of prices and store inventory lists."

"You're very bright, you know," I commented.

"Thanks, I guess," mumbled Hatsumi.

"No, really. You just need to spend more time catching up than you do moping on your missed time. It's amazing that you stayed in that terrible place for two years and still wanted a better life."

Hatsumi stared at me, then smiled. "Well, yes, I did want a better life. Plenty of kids lost hope in The Den." He fell silent for a moment, biting his lower lip. "To finish my story, after a while, I had enough money for train fare, and I decided to leave Rhenigroth and come to Lhasa. Lhasa seemed far away enough to me. It was only by accident I found the Shomas, you know."

"Asheno lost track of you completely, didn't he?" The fever receded slowly, as I silently gave thanks for the change of subject. "He hasn't been so good at managing us, has he?"

"Hm-mm." assented Hatsumi. He lay back down on his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. I knew then he wasn't in the mood to talk any longer, and besides, the fever had tired me out.

That was only between Hatsumi and me; he later made it quite clear that he wasn't ready for the others to know just yet, and I obliged. However, the Karori attendees were not shy about filling us in on the events at their school. Three main themes dominated any conversation about Karori: a golden wolf that appeared every so often; Rhini Ashiri, a Dzuni who hadn't moved to the main estate yet; and finally, Tori and Khezuke's homeroom teacher, another Shoma.

The mysterious golden wolf had materialized twice more after the infamous cafeteria incident, and the entire student body (excepting the Dzuni) at least suspected Haku was controlling it. The wolf still had not harmed anyone. It had jumped at people, but it always went right through them without leaving so much as a scratch on their bodies. Haku denied all of the accusations, but of course no one believed him. Students stayed as far away from Haku as possible, and avoided speaking with him. Yesterday, a silly first-year even screamed when she saw Haku enter the same corridor she was in. Not surprisingly, wherever Haku walked, empty space magically appeared around him, as though a force field surrounded him. Haku doesn't mind people avoiding him, but he does mind having attention called to him. For now, the wolf's origin remains enigmatic, although Tori theorizes one of the yet-undiscovered Dzuni is releasing it. If so, I sincerely hope that Dzuni is found quickly.

Speaking of new Dzunis, Hatsuharu told me about a close call he had with Ashiri, the rat. Quite frankly, hearing his description of Ashiri's electrical currents makes me anxious for his and the others' safety. At least Ashiri's proven she can defend herself against Asheno, if need be. And she's supposed to move in with us at the end of this week, too! Her boxes have begun to arrive in a steady stream from her current house, as are boxes for two other Dzunis who are also moving in at the same time.

Ashiri has been very slow to respond to our overtures of friendship. From what I've heard, Haku's made the most progress with her. Khosure explained to me yesterday that Haku is always careful to give her a lot of space, and not to pressure her. Ashiri once said she killed someone by accident in the past, and Haku can certainly relate to that. But our rat girl has revealed nothing more—she guards her secrets jealously. Personally, I think that Haku is not the one she'll feel safest around. It's queer, saying this when I haven't even met Ashiri, but they're almost too similar to become good friends. They're both scared of their powers, very angry, and very frustrated. Just a gut feeling I have.

In the meanwhile, we constantly ponder the relevance of Tori and Khezuke's homeroom teacher, Shoma Shala. Haku says her father is, or rather was, the dog under the old curse. Sometimes Haku's vast knowledge about the family, contrary to any claims he makes about Faran-Zhuku not telling him anything worthwhile, causes me some discomfort. I occasionally wonder how much Haku knows about our deepest secrets and the skeletons in the Shoma family's closet.

However, I digress. Tori, Khezuke, Hatsuharu, and Haku are all convinced this teacher knows about the curse, because she recognized their unusual looks. They're taking great care to hide their school papers from Asheno, so he doesn't find out that Shala is teaching a bunch of his Dzuni, and they're probably right. Tori wants to confide in Shala at some later point, when we've gotten more familiar with her. I don't know how Tori plans to go about that, because one can't just march up to a teacher and ask personal questions. If Shala is directly connected to the old Dzuni, however, she might provide an invaluable retreat from Asheno.

I, for one, wouldn't mind meeting my horse predecessor. Listening to Haku and everyone else scheme away about finding these ex-Dzunis is rubbing off on me, obviously. It's fairly safe to say we all feel the same way: if we can find our predecessors, we'll have found people who can relate to our troubles, and perhaps treat us like real family members. None of us want to be sacrifices to the selfish desires of a pathetic man who imagines he's a god.


	43. Chapter 45

Edakumi: Thanks for reviewing! Glad you enjoy it.

Lots of the old Dzuni in this chapter!

Disclaimer: FB ain't mine, nor is anything else you recognize. I am a college student, and therefore not worth suing.

**Chapter 45**

The second Friday of the school year arrived, as the servants in the main house, guided by Rhena's sure hand, prepared for the arrival of three more of Asheno's wards. The new girls would move into the estate late in the afternoon.

"Anyone heard of Nhanu Rhosu or Thoshuruna Ashitare?" Khosure asked Hatsuharu and Shidora at lunch that day.

"No," replied Hatsuharu right away, munching on an undersized, out-of-season apple.

"Ashitare?" frowned Shidora, concentrating hard. "That sounds familiar to me. I think she's in my class, but she must be the kind who never talks and sits all the way in the back. Oh, yeah, I remember now. The only reason I noticed her was because of her reddish hair color. Well…" She paused. "At least it looked red to me. It might've been a sort of gold, more like. But I definitely don't know Rhosu."

"I hope they're not as scary as Ashiri, though," said Khosure, looking indignantly at Hatsuharu. "She might've killed you, Hara!" Ashiri had the same lunch period as the three of them, but she studiously avoided them.

Hatsuharu shrugged philosophically. "That's in the past, now, Kho." Then he smiled ruefully. "I'd prefer for Rhosu and Ashitare to have less dangerous Dzuni spirits than Ashiri, though. And I hope Shuro doesn't room with Ashiri."

"Ooh! You do like Shuro!" squealed Khosure.

"Will you shut up?" hissed Hatsuharu, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. Shidora and Khosure giggled. It was not often they could see Hatsuharu visibly flustered.

Ghen called in sick for the day, wheezing that he'd developed a bad cough overnight. Hatsumi and Lhurone happily ignored their homework, and decided to assist Rhena with the move-in. One of the rooms intended for two of the girls had been unoccupied for a long time, and it showed in the number of mutant dust bunnies and the stale smell lingering in the carpet. Hatsumi and Lhurone spent much of the morning setting that room in order, and sneezing often from the floating dust.

After lunch, Rhena announced she was going out to buy some necessities for the new girls' rooms, such as bedsheets that didn't have holes or unidentified stains, and smaller but useful accessories such as wastebaskets and clothing hangers. "I wish Asheno had let us know which rooms he wanted us to clean earlier," she grumbled, not bothering to lower her voice. It was safe to speak normally, since Asheno felt tired and had taken to his bed. At such times, emboldened servants became less careful about hushing their complaints and gossip when they spoke to each other.

"Can we come shopping with you?" begged Lhurone. Since he and Hatsumi first arrived, they'd not been off the estate grounds, and the sense of isolation chafed. "Please, Rhena?" Hatsumi assumed the most woeful expression he was capable of.

Rhena hesitated, "All right. His Highness is conked out today, so it ought to be safe enough. We can't stay out too long, mind." The chauffeur, Lonisi, was a good friend of Rhena's, so he wouldn't tattle to Asheno. One had to be careful with servants—some were more easily bribed into talking than others, and Asheno didn't hesitate to exploit the spineless ones' greed. Naturally, Rhena knew how exactly how much each servant could be trusted. She had Lonisi drive right up to the front porch, to better conceal the two boys from prying eyes.

Despite traveling only a mile and a half, the drive had a liberating effect on both boys, particularly Lhurone. The horse had come to Lhasa at night, and while badly injured as well, and didn't have a chance to see any of the neighborhoods clearly. For the first mile, the sedan passed the grandest houses in Lhasa, though none as large as the Shoma estate. Many had gates around their boundaries, but the second floors of the brick and stone houses were clearly visible over the tops of the gates. Some of the older stone houses still possessed ornate masonry, mostly in the form of flowers and leaves, and an animal or two. The last summer flowers bloomed stubbornly in the front gardens of the unfenced mansions, and enormous swaths of greenery surrounded each building, cut through by lengthy driveways.

Lhurone whistled. "If I were still in Shiwa, I'd be laughing at the owners of these places, and feeling jealous and bitter at the same time."

"I wonder where the money to pay for all this came from." Hatsumi eyed the mansions critically. Rhena missed the cynical tone, being too engrossed in her shopping list, but Lhurone shifted uncomfortably. Since Hatsumi's personal confession, talk about money had new significance between the two of them. For the first time, Lhurone found himself questioning the origins of the Shomas' wealth, and quickly resumed his window-gazing.

A mixture of smaller houses and fancy condominium complexes supplanted the mansions. Though humbler in scale than the great mansions, the bungalows required a generous income to purchase. They'd reached the outskirts of Mhagenu, which consisted of these houses and condos. The population and traffic were slightly denser in Mhagenu's periphery, and the alleys were avoided at night for fear of muggings.

Lonisi pulled the car into an upscale shopping stretch, where Rhena's favorite department store, Imeru, was located. Imeru was her primary source for clothing for the Dzuni, and household needs, such as linen and plates, to replace the ones Asheno destroyed on a regular basis. Long ago, Asheno had arranged for Rhena's tab to be paid on purchases for the household. Not surprisingly, the Shomas were among Imeru's best customers.

Since it was a Friday, the parking lot was only half full, and Lonisi managed to find a spot in front of Imeru, located at the end of the shopping strip. Twenty feet away from Imeru's entrance, an alley stretched behind the building. As Lhurone followed, his gang senses, intact despite the sudden change in his lifestyle, alerted him to watching eyes. Furtively, Lhurone glanced towards the alley, and immediately froze in place. He had been caged within the safety of the estate's walls long enough to become complacent about possible retaliation for Faran-Zhuku's slaughter the night Lhurone was "kicked out." The brother of his dead gang leader was now peering at Lhurone around the corner of the alley, and his triumphant expression chilled Lhurone. The dirt-streaked face grinned, and the boy gestured for Lhurone to come right away. Not wishing to get Rhena and Hatsumi entangled in a personal gang feud, Lhurone cooperated. He knew the boy would start trouble otherwise. In a feud like this, when someone like Feridu had nothing to lose, it wouldn't matter that it was broad daylight and people were present.

"Master!" Lonisi's startled yell and the sound of the sedan's door opening grabbed Rhena and Hatsumi's attention. Seeing Lonisi's trademark tragic expression suddenly morphing into fright worried Rhena, and she ran back outside.

"Lhurone's run off with some homeless boy! In the alley!" Lonisi pointed in the direction they'd gone.

In the fastest she'd ever moved in her life, Rhena bolted inside the sedan, Hatsumi following suit. "Follow them!"

"What's going on?" asked Hatsumi, who yelped as the sedan screeched out of its parking spot and Lonisi swerved into the alley. Half a block away, they could see the ragged boy running in pursuit of Lhurone.

"Knock down the boy if you can!" Rhena ordered to Lonisi. Hatsumi noticed Lhurone zigzagging, and loud popping sounds. He gasped. "That kid's got a gun!" Lonisi sped up, his bony hands gripping the wheel grimly yet determinedly. The car bounced roughly over the alley's many potholes.

His legs stretched as far as they could, and Lhurone looked straight ahead, never peeking over his shoulder at his enemy. Looking over the shoulder slows down a runner, and speed was of the essence if Lhurone wanted to live. Lhurone had gone over to Feridu, on the insane hope and infinitely small chance of talking him out of revenge, when he saw Feridu reach inside his jacket for the gun. Whenever his life had been in danger in Shiwa, an animal instinct took over, and Lhurone would run as though carried by a harithe blast, his feet barely striking the ground before lifting off for another stride. Feridu was fast, but the horse's spirit far outmatched him. Already Feridu's chest heaved, whereas Lhurone barely panted. The bullets missed Lhurone narrowly. Looking ahead of him, Lhurone saw a wooden fence, just a little over seven feet tall, bobbing closer and closer. The alley was a dead end. The swear words from his old gang days flowed freely, unimpeded by his Dzuni for once. Lhurone cursed his stupidity for going into the alley rather than staying out in the open. Idiot, he'd done exactly what Feridu hoped. His mind did not register the sound of a speeding car as Lhurone automatically jumped upwards, hands reaching for the top of the fence, and used his momentum to haul himself over the fence.

As he crouched low, pressing his body against the fence, Lhurone's fighting senses returned. The feeling of violent ecstasy that used to flood Lhurone while battling rival gangs or mugging an innocent felt perfectly natural, and no nausea or faintness accompanied it. He didn't care who might notice. The wooden fence shook as Feridu struggled to lift himself over it. Brakes screeched somewhere close by. Lhurone saw Feridu's hands grip the fence, and the gun. As soon as Feridu's torso appeared, Lhurone reached for the gun hand, and snatched Feridu's shirt by the collar. While tugging Feridu over the fence, Lhurone wrested the gun free.

Before Rhena could stop him, Hatsumi got out of the car. He searched briefly for a way to enter the yard, and saw a gate next to the garage. Yelling emerged from the opposite side of the fence, and Hatsumi heard savage cursing. Shocked, he realized Lhurone was the one cursing—he was supposed to be incapable of it. A single gunshot sounded, and then silence reigned.

"Lhurone!" screamed Hatsumi.

"I shot him." The voice was calm and even. Although he felt relieved to hear Lhurone speak, the tone he used made Hatsumi shiver involuntarily. It would have been terrifying to face Lhurone when he was able to kill so easily. By now both Rhena and Lonisi had gotten out. Luckily the residents seemed to be out at work or on errands; Rhena breathed a silent thanks to the gods when she observed no gawking faces at the windows and heard no police sirens. It was the middle of the day, after all. They'd have to hope none of the shoppers heard the gunshots. She and Lonisi joined Hatsumi, who was trying to jimmy the gate's lock.

Lhurone glanced at the single bloody hole in Feridu's head, and he swayed as dizziness overcame him, not aware of a spectator inside the house to which the yard belonged. The gun fell to the grass. He slumped, unconscious, next to the dead body.

"Hey, Lhurone, can you open the gate from the inside?" called Hatsumi.

Instead, a woman's challenging voice called out. "Who are you?"

"Please, one of the boys is a ward of the Shoma family." Rhena decided only the truth might work. The Shoma name wielded considerable power in Lhasa. "We have come to fetch him back home. He's had some trouble, and he ran away. We've been looking for him all day."

The gate squeaked open, and a woman peered cautiously through the crack. When she saw they were indeed not gang members, she pushed the gate all the way open. All three Shoma retainers gasped. The woman looked just like Lhurone, but with more feminine lines to her body. Her face was carefully made up, but wrinkles from her nose to her mouth, and around her eyes, were still visible. She donned a midnight black professional ensemble. A silver chain was looped through her flowing skirt, which went to her ankles and revealed trendy high heels.

Her dark red lips hung open in horror. "The sheep…" she murmured, staring at Hatsumi, who was doing likewise.

"W-what?" stammered Rhena, terrified.

"Oh! The boy fainted!" The woman turned suddenly, and the rest followed. Heedless of her suit, the woman bent over Lhurone and rotated him onto his back. She hyperventilated slightly as she looked at her young, male mirror reflection. Rhena shook him, and Lhurone stirred groggily. Scanning his body for injuries, Rhena asked, "Are you all right?" He nodded, and attempted to sit up, groaning.

"I feel so sick," Lhurone moaned. Placing Lhurone's arm over his shoulder, Hatsumi hefted his mostly limp body off the ground.

"Put him in the car, Hatsumi," Rhena said brusquely.

"No, you could bring him into the house," offered the woman eagerly. "He can rest until he feels better."

"Ma'am, you have a dead body in your backyard, and we must get Lhurone back before his guardian notices," replied Rhena stiffly.

"Would his guardian be Asheno, by any chance?" whispered the woman, her eyes suddenly blazing with unabated hatred. Hesitating, Rhena gulped, and turned to Hatsumi and Lonosi, who were still standing on each side of Lhurone, supporting him. "Lonosi, take the boys back to the house. Make sure Lhurone is put to bed. Then I want you to return quickly and get me. Don't tell anyone about any of this." Nodding silently and looking tragic once again, Lonosi nudged Hatsumi, and they guided Lhurone out the gate.

"Let's go into the house," said the woman, flinching at the body.

The back door led into the kitchen, every inch of which was modern. There was no appearance of a traditional Hothan household. Steel, leather and marble dominated, rather than wood and colorful hangings. The kitchen walls were painted a rich red that offset the severity of the marble countertops and the glass table, and added a warmer tone that otherwise would have been lacking. Rhena appraised the clear glass table disapprovingly, and admired the shining appliances.

"Do you cook very much?" asked Rhena, noticing the spacious stovetops and oven.

"No, my husband is the cook." The woman smiled softly, and poured red wine. "Would you like some?" Rhena shook her head, appalled at the idea of consuming wine before mid-afternoon. It wasn't proper. Gingerly pulling out a black leather and steel chair away from the table, Rhena seated herself.

"I am Shoma Rhinanon," said the woman cursorily, all business once again, setting her glass on the table and sitting down. "But you may call me Rin."

"Ah, so you are related to the family?" asked Rhena lightly, already aware of the answer.

"Does the word 'Dzuni' mean anything to you?" The woman saw Rhena's eyes widen, and continued, "I ask because I used to be a member of the Dzuni—the horse. And those children looked very, very familiar to me."

"Yes, they're the sheep and horse," admitted Rhena, uncertain how much to tell. "Um…if I may ask, you're a member of the Dzuni?"

"An ex-member," corrected Rin. Her glass shook as she sipped some wine. "Is the curse back, then?"

Rhena looked at Rin for a long time, noticing the fear that had stripped away her brusqueness. The old nurse decided Rin was someone accustomed to having her way, and a proud person. Now she seemed less powerful, and just as scared and nervous as Rhena at this moment.

"You might say that," Rhena began slowly, "but it's…not what it used to be."

"How?" demanded Rin, leaning forward.

"Uh, they don't change when they're hugged by someone of the opposite sex."

"Really?" Rin frowned, confused.

"And the animals—no, I'm sorry, I meant the Dzuni—are kind of different." Unwilling to divulge further information, Rhena stopped. Rin appeared to sense this, and asked if all of the Dzuni were under Asheno's care.

"After today, all but one will be there, I believe."

"But there is still thirteen of them?" pressed Rin.

"Yes." A horn honked from the backyard, and Rhena recognized the sedan's horn. "The chauffeur's back. I must go before Asheno gets suspicious." Rhena stood up awkwardly.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" A pleading tone undercut Rin's voice. The horn sounded again, more insistently.

"I'm afraid I can't, really." Rhena smiled wanly. "Asheno hasn't changed much, you see," she added in a dark undertone. "I try to protect the children from him. I see you understand what I mean. It'd be wonderful to talk more with you, but I must go now. You see, the boys weren't supposed to be out, so I have to make sure the other servants don't talk. Can you handle the police yourself? There mustn't be an investigation," exhorted Rhena as she stepped outside the back door. Lonisi fidgeted by the still open gate.

"Wait, Rhena!" Rin had been riffling through her purse, and she burst out of the back door waving a business card. "Please, call me. This has my home number on it. And don't worry, I can handle the police." A crooked smile appeared on Rin's face. "I know how to use the Shoma name and money to bribe them." Accepting the card, Rhena bowed her head in acknowledgment and stepped into the sedan. Rin stood in the gate, watching as the ominously familiar dark sedan clattered over the potholes, turned onto the street, and vanished.

As the sedan started passing the enormous mansions once again, Rhena examined the card. She would have to think long and hard about whether or not she wanted to speak to Rin again. In the Shoma family, it could be very difficult to know whom to trust, and she didn't dare risk her darlings' safety. True, Rin might be able to help them as well. Unfortunately, it would be incredibly difficult for the head of the servants to slip away unnoticed, or have a lengthy phone conversation on the estate grounds. The family's propensity for hiring talky servants was a real curse, she thought.

Shala lay on her lumpy sofa in her typically messy studio apartment, a box of chocolates in her lap and a bottle of soda in her left hand. The television blared away, and Shala wasn't really aware of what program she was watching. She needed some time to process the last two weeks. Also, she still hadn't told her parents about the Dzunis at Karori. She'd gotten too absorbed in looking them up in the school records, and following the strange string of bronze wolf sightings and Haku's recent troubles. Not to mention that her teaching duties alone were time-consuming, especially because she was new and inexperienced.

"Yargh!" The phone chirruped, making Shala jerk involuntarily, which nearly upset the chocolates. "Fuck, what is it?" grunted Shala as she scrambled for the handset.

Not feeling obliged towards politeness, Shala said in a surly voice, "Yeah, Shoma Shala."

"Hello, Shalala." The singsong voice came unbroken over the line. Upon hearing it, Shala sighed and reclined fully on the couch, knocking off a pile of clothes with her foot. Her father was the last person she wanted to speak with tonight.

"A sigh? I'm not interrupting a date, am I?" joked Shehure. His gaiety sounded forced to Shala, indicating he'd called for a specific reason. There was usually a motive behind everything Shehure did, as Shala had discovered during her teenage years.

"No. I have no love life. Why are you calling?" She popped another chocolate into her mouth and purposely chewed with her mouth open, so her father could hear the nuts crunching. Despite the curse ending, Shehure still possessed the senses of a dog.

"Stop that, Shala. There's no reason to act like a sullen preteen."

She swallowed the chocolate quickly; this was serious. His sense of humor usually didn't evaporate that fast. "Sorry, Daddy. Did something happen?"

"Yes. Rin saw two of the Dzuni today, at her house."

"What? Two of the Dzuni?" repeated Shala, her hand frozen in midair in reaching for the soda.

"Hm-mm. One of them got into a fight with a gang member in Rin's backyard. He shot the gangster dead, though."

"Which ones?"

"Eh?"

"Which Dzunis did you see?" Shala asked urgently.

Shehure hadn't expected Shala to brush aside the dead gangster so quickly. The story was all the family had been talking about that night, when Haru and Rin came to Shehure's house for dinner. All of the former Dzunis who lived in Lhasa had a tradition of convening at Shehure's once a month for dinner. Only Nharu, living in Gogotha, and Hiro and Khisa, in Hareth, were not present.

Even though they'd suspected for years, it was still a major shock to confirm the existence of another poor group of Dzunis. And here was Shala, sounding as though she already knew!

"Which ones did you see? I might know them," repeated Shala, impatient with the long pause on the other side.

"Well, the horse and the sheep. Did you say…"

"Shehure, is everything all right?" asked Mahalina, noticing the shocked look on her husband's face. The huge piles of dirty dishes from dinner perched, forgotten, on the table. The conversation had been too engrossing for anybody to pay attention to the dishes.

"Shala met some of the Dzuni!" hissed Shehure, covering the mouthpiece.

"I've got to say I haven't seen anybody like Hiro or Rin at school," said Shala. "Did Rin get their names? I could look them up in the school directory."

"The horse is Lhurone, and the sheep is Hatsumi. They're both boys." Some of the former Dzuni, overhearing Shehure's side of the conversation, began to drift into the kitchen. Ahame and Mhine lingered in the doorway, questioning looks on their faces, then stepped inside. The others followed, as in a wordless procession, all listening intently. Hathori and Karan stood next to Mahalina, while Huki poured more wine for his wife, Hanadzima, and also for Lhoru and Zhula. Lhadoman and Hatharu generally didn't drink wine. The kitchen became steadily more cramped as Rin, Haru, Khagura and her husband, and Rhishu and Mhita filed in.

"Hatsumi and Lhurone don't seem to be in here," said Shala, after flipping through the directory twice. "Wait, Daddy, did you say one of them was fighting a gang member in Rin's backyard?"

Chuckling ruefully, Shehure said, "Yes, it's true."

"Look, Daddy, I'd better come over. I have a lot to explain, and I'd rather speak with you in person."

"All right, but tonight's Ex-Dzuni Dinner Night, so everybody's here. If you'd rather wait until later, to speak with your mother and I in private…"

"That's fine. I'll be there soon as I can." Shala hung up. "Besides, I have to get all of Rin's story."

Fifteen minutes later, Shala found herself the center of attention, surrounded by her family members in her parents' living room. Lhoru helped Mahalina gather extra chairs. Shala looked out at the Dzuni of forty years ago. Now they all had grey or white hairs, and some wrinkles, but apparently the curse had softened the aging process considerably. All of the Dzuni looked much better than many elderly people of comparable age that Shala had met thus far.

When Rin finished telling her about the backyard incident, Shala pondered the story, nodding slowly.

"It makes sense to me," she finally said deliberately, "what Rhena said about the animals being different."

"How?" Shala didn't notice who spoke. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out the best way to explain what she'd seen so far.

"The differences aren't very obvious, at least from what I've seen. I don't have any detailed knowledge of their Dzunis, remember." She caught sight of Shehure, seated on the sofa's arm, listening to every word. His intense look was the same as Haku's, and Shala giggled mirthlessly, causing sideways glances among many in the audience. The whole situation felt ridiculous, somehow. Few families would ever be in a position like this. "I'll start with the one that left the deepest impression on me, then." She winked at Shehure.

Shala's as impossible as her father, thought Hathori, rolling his eyes.

"I met him in the hallway at the end of my first day," continued Shala. "He called out to me first, and he thought I was Mahalina. I'd seen so many Dzunis that day and I was totally unnerved, so when he yelled to me, I dropped everything I was carrying. He realized his mistake, and introduced himself as Shoma Haku. Haku also looks a little different from Dad. His skin tone is darker, more olive. Other than that, everything else's the same. I told him my name, and the entire time he was smirking at me as though he already knew everything about me. It sounds funny, but I swear it's true. I don't know how he knew Mom's name." Shala noticed Hatharu taking meticulous notes on what she said. He looked every bit like the lawyer he was: perfectly pressed suit, and an expression of absolute concentration.

"Well, Haku could've gotten Mahalina's name from Asheno or some scrapbook," suggested Khagura, perched on a ratty wooden chair across the room from Shala.

"Somehow, I doubt it," murmured Shala. "To be honest, he frightened me badly. He's not charming and outgoing like Dad, but moody and dark. All of his teachers are scared of him; I've spoken with his literature teacher. She actually shudders when she hears his name."

"If Haku's like that, he must live with Asheno," commented Huki bitterly.

"I'm sorry to say he does," sighed Shala. "I checked all the Dzuni I saw in the school directory, and Asheno is listed as Haku's guardian. In the directory, Haku's full name is given, and it's very odd. Faran-Hat-Zhuku."

"What?" said Shehure disbelievingly.

"I'm not kidding."

"He's named the 'phantom black wolf'? No wonder people are terrified of him," said Ahame.

"Did Asheno name him?" asked Shehure.

"I don't know. There may be some truth to the name, though," Shala said reluctantly. "Recently the school has had trouble with the appearance of a ghost wolf." Credulous faces stared back at her. "The wolf is real. I've seen it myself!"

"I believe you," said Hanadzima coolly.

Grateful, Shala went on. "This ghost hasn't killed or injured anybody yet, thank heavens. It just pops up every so often, runs around a bit, and students scream and flee, then it disappears. There's been four sightings so far, and it seems pretty clear that it's not just some elaborate prank. The school's been examined carefully, and nothing like projectors have been found anywhere near the locations of the sightings.

"The problem is that during the second sighting, which happened in the school cafeteria, a lot of students saw Haku approach the wolf. I saw it as well. Now they're pointing fingers at him and accusing him of controlling the wolf. Haku denies it, but he can't prove it. Obviously he won't go into detail because he doesn't want to reveal the Dzuni secret. But in the hallways and classrooms, it's as though Haku has the plague. Students avoid him and won't talk to him, and some even run away. It's gotten so bad that the principal's calling Haku into his office for a personal conference on Monday." Shala chuckled wryly. "If Haku's literature teacher is right, he has major problems with authority figures. So I don't know how well it'll go."

"My goodness, the old curse was never anything like this, was it, Hathori?" Karan said. Her husband shook his head vehemently.

"Poor Haku," said Lhoru, whose heart remained as soft as it had always been. "Isn't there some way you could help him, Shala?"

"I've been thinking about it," said Shala. "He definitely wanted to speak with me more after our first meeting, but the opportunity never came. I think Asheno requires them to leave school right away after the last class, because I can never find them after the final period. I'll try to seek Haku out during his lunch hour."

"And the others? How many Dzunis have you seen, besides Haku?" asked Haru, who now worked as the principal of a small private elementary school.

"Oh, I've found everyone except for the cat," replied Shala, her musings about Haku interrupted. "I mean, all thirteen are listed in the school directory with the Shoma main estate as their address, but nobody resembling Lhadoman in any way's shown up at Karori yet. I know the cat's name, but it's Gogothan. Perhaps he or she is still there."

"Can you tell whether the cat's a girl or boy?" queried Lhadoman gruffly. He rested his hands inside the folds of his forest green hekasho. Next to him, Lhoru's eyes glistened.

"No, I'm sorry, the name's hard to remember," apologized Shala, sincerely sorry that she couldn't give Lhadoman and Lhoru any information. "Maybe the cat will transfer in later." She paused, gathering her energy once again. This was proving more exhausting than she'd thought.

"Well," Ahame piped up in an effort to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, "have the other Dzunis been as interesting as Haku?"

Shala smiled and sipped her water. "No, uh, they haven't caused as much trouble as he has." The group laughed, breaking some of the heaviness in the air. "They've been quieter, and they come to Haku's defense when they can."

"Do you teach any of them?" Mhita's high-pitched voice jumped in.

"Actually, I've got the dragon and boar in my homeroom."

"Oh, tell us about them!" said Khagura, excitedly, and her husband Monu perked up as well.

"The dragon's a girl named Zhuruth Hotohori—" started Shala.

"Hotohori?" repeated Karan, shocked. It was the same name as her eldest son, one of "the thirteen" who'd disappeared after Asheno's mysterious summons almost twenty years ago.

"Zhuruth?" said Hathori. "I thought you said she lived at the main estate, Shala."

"She does, but only Haku and one other possess the surname Shoma," said Shala. "I think Asheno must've sent most of them off to different families. Anyway, Hotohori looks just like Hathori, and she's very smart. I haven't noticed her doing unusual, Dzuni-related things. The boar is a boy named Ashu Khezuke. He's an inch or two taller than Daddy, and very muscular and broad across his chest and shoulders. The odd thing is the scarring on his arms and face."

"Is Asheno beating them?" Huki almost yelled, outraged. Khagura's fists clenched in her lap, ready to attack Asheno if she could.

"I don't know!" answered Shala quickly, deciding it would be wiser not to say she thought the scars looked like whip marks. "So, I teach three other Dzuni in my other classes. There's Nhanu Rhosu, the rabbit, and Dzaran Shuro, whom I'm guessing is the bird. I didn't notice her at first because she has plain brown hair and brown eyes, and doesn't stand out particularly. But her address is the main estate. The third Dzuni is Shoma Hatsuharu, who seems to be the leader of the Dzuni. He's the one who always guards Haku whenever he's able to. Like Khezuke, he's very tall and broad across the chest and shoulders. And he's had to deal with the headmaster asking about his black and white hair." Shala grinned. "Hatsuharu doesn't like nicknames, so it's always Hatsuharu for him.

"I only see the others in the hallways, so I know little about them. Thoshuruna Ashitare is the monkey, and she seemed really shy. Rhini Ashiri is the rat, and like Haku, she has a tendency to frighten away people. I've seen the tiger, Shumura Shidora, in the cafeteria. Her hair's kind of orange with yellowish and blackish streaks in it. Last but not least is Ahame Khosure, who is the snake, of course. He acts just like you, Ahame!"

At that point, conversational cliques of three or four people formed, and Shala spoke to only a few individuals at once, rather than everybody. An hour later, when the clock struck one in the morning, some of the Dzuni began going home.

After all the Dzuni had finally left, Mahalina yawned and patted her daughter on the shoulder. "Why don't you stay overnight, dear? It's so late now, and I won't allow you to drive in this state."

"I think I will," murmured Shala sleepily, her head supported by her hand on the couch's arm.

Unlike his wife and daughter, Shehure was still wide awake. His unusual sleeping schedule had not changed much over the years, despite his having children who frequently rose at the crack of dawn. He remained in the living room, watching the two women retreat upstairs to comfortable beds. For the rest of the night, in his study, he digested everything Shala and Rin had said.


	44. Chapter 46

The character Rhosu shows a lot of influence from "Alice 19th" by Yuu Watase. I'm a Yuu Watase fan, in case you noticed...her ideas are good even if the sap runs a bit thick in her stories.

Disclaimer: FB and Alice 19th aren't mine, and nor is anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 46**

Before Shala went to her parents' house, the new Dzuni presented themselves to Asheno after dinner at the main estate. Afflicted by a lingering fatigue and an annoying headache, the Shoma family head kept the audience short. While Asheno reclined on his trusty chaise, Ashiri, Ashitare, and Rhosu solemnly bowed before him. Ashiri still wore her Karori uniform, out of a determination to flout the formality of this occasion. On the other hand, Ashitare had decked herself in a lovely warm brown herana, which complemented her shining golden-brown hair perfectly. Ashitare kept her head bowed, thus causing her shoulder-length hair to fall forward and shield her face from Asheno's view. The rabbit, Rhosu, had opted for simplicity, choosing a light blue, knee-length skirt with purple flowers and green leaves embroidered along the hem and pleats, and a plain white blouse. Her blonde hair was bobbed and pinned back by barettes.

The rat's hostile glare displeased Asheno, before his foggy mind recollected that she was not Huki. Unwittingly, he'd slipped back to the tumultuous days when the old Dzuni were rebelling against him. Another insolent Dzuni, this Ashiri, he thought, almost resignedly. Asheno closed his eyes for a minute, willing his brain to return to the present day. When he opened his eyes again, the monkey girl fairly quivered. The rabbit, on the other hand, covered her nervousness well and smiled pleasantly at Asheno.

"Permit me," began the blonde girl, "I am Nhanu Rhosu. It's an honor to meet my generous benefactor at last."

Asheno nodded approvingly. This one didn't speak with an impossible Gogothan accent, as Nharu had and still did. In the past, Asheno had always found it necessary to strain to comprehend the horrifically botched Hothan spilling from Nharu's mouth. Rhosu was an improvement over her predecessor. Of course, she did grow up in Hareth, if he remembered correctly.

A pregnant pause ensued before Asheno heard the grey-haired girl spit out curtly, "Rhini Ashiri." She said nothing more. Returning Ashiri's defiant glare twofold, Asheno then turned his attention onto Ashitare.

"And you? You're Thoshuruna Ashitare, yes?"

The shaking girl's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound escaped.

Asheno narrowed his eyes; his patience was thin enough as it was and his headache pounded. "I do presume you can speak?"

"Y-y-ye-yes…" stuttered Ashitare, her mouth working extensively.

"A stutterer, I see," declared Asheno loudly enough for everyone to hear. Ashitare turned bright scarlet and appeared to shrink into her herana. "You've introduced yourselves to me. I'll speak with you again when I'm feeling better. Now go." Asheno dismissed them with a wave, and massaged his temples. Ashitare wasted no time in leaving, and Ashiri left deliberately, determined to prove to Asheno she wasn't flustered by him.

"May I ask you a quick question?" ventured Rhosu, who lingered near the doors.

"What?" snapped Asheno.

"Is it all right if my pet rabbit stays here?"

"Aw, isn't that charming," cooed Asheno mockingly. "The rabbit has a pet rabbit."

"She's had all her shots, and I take good care of her," Rhosu said hurriedly. "She won't bother anybody."

"All right. It's fine with me. Just don't let the creature run around willy-nilly." Asheno wanted nothing more than to be left in peace and quiet.

"Thank you!" Rhosu bowed and bounced out of the hallway. As the door creaked shut, Asheno groaned audibly and pulled a thick blanket over his body. Tonight he would not bother going to his bedroom.

_Ashiri_

From what I've seen, this house is more than large enough for Asheno to give all of us single rooms. I certainly don't see why I should be forced to share a room with Miss Eternal Sunshine and that mangy rabbit of hers. If the bunny hops to my side of the room, it'll make a toasty dinner when my lightning bolts (as I like to think of my electric currents) finish with it. Rhosu's a total suck-up; she probably stayed behind to grovel at Asheno's feet some more.

Speaking of my new family head, he was clearly unwell tonight. But I do begin to see what the idiot tiger girl, Shidora, was trying to tell me about him. That one look he gave me hinted at how dangerous he can be. For a moment I almost found myself wishing I were back in my old life, which is positively ridiculous, because I'm fine as I am right now.

My lightning bolts will be adequate protection from Asheno, as they were from all those kids who kept bullying me. They once saved me by electrocuting a boy who tried to throw a large rock at my head when I was in my second year of primary school. That was also the first time the bolts appeared; it was as though they sensed my terror. Incidentally, my parents and I were forced to move from Salodo (a nothing town in the northern portion of the Ashomi Waste) to Mharhan, an isolated mountain town on the western skirts of the Dividing Range. Everybody in the schoolyard saw the incident, and most children believed me to be a witch and a killer after that, so my parents were hoping the reclusiveness of Mharhan would allow us to escape the pointing and whispering.

I now realize moving around was futile. First, I was a killer—the boy died, right? I did stun two or three people in the following years, although none perished. Additionally, people inevitably stared at my hair and eye color. Due to combinations of these two factors, we migrated from Mharhan to Folon after two years, then from Folon to Hareth after only a year. We bounced from neighborhood to neighborhood in Hareth, until, finally, to my parents' great relief, Asheno called us to Lhasa. In all honesty, I prefer larger cities. It is much easier to hide in Lhasa and Hareth, than in teeny, inbred towns with cross-eyed inhabitants like Mharhan.

"Hello, roommate!" I wish Rhosu wasn't so damnably happy. How can she smile all the time, considering she's a freak like the rest of us? Haku said we were freaks, didn't he. One stare from me shut Rhosu up, and she commenced unpacking some of the boxes piled on her bed. I decided to do the same. After all, if I wish to sleep in a proper bed tonight, I must rid it of boxes.

We folded clothes away and arranged our miscellanea in silence for a while, with Rhosu occasionally whispering to her rabbit. Its cage sits at the foot of her bed.

"Ashiri?"

"What?" I sat on my now clear bed, and tested the mattress. Firm, just as I preferred. The blankets seemed worn, though.

"What do you think of our new home?" Rhosu hopped onto her bed, and rolled over onto her stomach. Obviously she could pick up my negative vibes, because she spoke in a softer, almost appeasing voice.

"I don't need you to coddle me," I snapped. "Talk in your normal voice. And for your information, this place is a hellhole."

A puzzled, almost shocked, expression formed on her face. "How so? The Shomas are easily the richest family in Lhasa, perhaps all of Hoth."

Oi, Rhosu was dense. I adopted my best condescending tone. "The family head is a nasty person. Or perhaps you haven't noticed how terrified all the servants are? Our fellow inmates are also scared of him, with the possible exception of Haku and Hatsuharu. I'll allow for them. Asheno will keep us on a tight leash, controlling everything we do, and we'll be nothing more than exotic animals imprisoned in a beautiful house." I stood up, and fetched my robe and toilette from the closet. "I'm going to take a shower, and let you process everything I've told you."

A steadily growing trail of drool crept down Haku's pillow. Occasionally, during especially stressful and tiring times, Haku's jaw would completely slacken as he fell into a deep sleep and hang open, resulting in drooling. Tonight was one such night. The golden wolf hysteria at Karori chipped at his energy, and to top it off, three new Dzuni had moved in and he had to help. Haku attempted to speak to Ashiri, but she shut him out, as she normally did. The encounter in the alley was the only time any of the Dzuni had actually touched a nerve within her, it seemed. For some time, the rat's distrust of others irritated him. In the last few days, an idea started germinating in Haku's head that Ashiri bothered him because she reminded him of how much he hid his own emotions and troubles from everybody else. She almost mirrored the way he could act.

That, however, was not something Haku wished to ponder today, so he pushed it aside. Mercifully, Asheno had been too ill to make a difficult day unbearable. Nevertheless, Haku gratefully flopped into bed that night. But an undisturbed repose was not meant to be.

In the wee hours of the morning, Haku heard a familiar, rumbling voice calling to him.

**"Wake up, sleepy dolt!"** Faran-Zhuku yelled from deep inside Haku's mind. The ghost had to repeat his order several times before Haku began to truly wake.

"Darn it, Faran-Zhuku, couldn't this have waited until morning?" yawned Haku crankily, huddled under his covers.

**"It is morning,"** the wolf said unctuously.

"What the hell do you want?" mumbled Haku. His sleepiness prevented him from questioning why Faran-Zhuku suddenly broke his silence after such a long absence. Haku started dozing when his body shivered. The cold sensation jerked Haku awake, and the sight of two bright red eyes face-to-face with him propelled him into a fully conscious state. Haku gasped, his heart beating wildly.

"Don't do that to me again."

**"Finally you awake,"** snorted Faran-Zhuku, backing up a few steps. **"I thought that might work. Very effective, yes? Now listen. I sense trouble. You need go to room of Shuro and monkey. The monkey wolf about appear, and you need make it go away. I not know it around until monkey came tonight. That why I not able to tell you earlier. Very bad if you keep having problems at school."**

"The 'monkey wolf'? What're you talking—" Haku's eyes widened, as the epiphany dawned on him. The fur of the golden wolf terrorizing Karori was the same color as Ashitare's hair. He ran out of his room, Faran-Zhuku settling comfortably into his bed in the meanwhile.

The spacious hallways were dark, except for dimmed wall lamps that illuminated the corners. The lamps did Haku little good, however, when he rammed his foot into a decorative end table placed next to Hatsuharu's door. Hopping with his injured foot held aloft, Haku leaned against the wall as muffled curses escaped.

"What's going on?" mumbled a barely awake Hatsuharu, disturbed by the crash. His drooping eyelids flew open and Haku forgot his pain entirely when a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the hallways. A crackling occurred as vein-like cracks spread through the windows, threatening to shatter them entirely. Running as quickly as they could while keeping their hands tightly placed over their aching ears, Haku and Hatsuharu raced to the room Shuro now shared with Ashitare.

The scream stopped. Rounding the corner into the girls' corridor, Haku opened the first door on the left. As he expected, the golden wolf stood in the middle of the room. Haku saw now that its fur was really closer to a bronze color, rather than gold. The wolf sat back on its haunches, its ears perked. Its tongue hung out as it panted, making the ghost friendly and cute. The glow from its fur illuminated Shuro's prone body, lying in a dead faint half out from under the covers.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Shidora, her orange eyes round with fright. She huddled with Hotohori and Rhosu outside the doorway, staring into the room. A confused and startled Ashiri joined them a second later, clad only in a towel and dripping water onto the carpeting.

"What happened?" called a nighttime servant. The teenagers could hear several pairs of feet rushing towards the corridor.

"Keep them away!" Haku hissed desperately at the girls in the doorway. Hotohori's senses returned to her, and she moved to head off the servants. Shidora followed, wanting to put more distance between her and the ghost. The rest of the male Dzunis had come by now, and Ashiri fled back to the bathroom.

Ashitare huddled against the wall, pulling her bedsheets around her for protection and staring at the apparition in disbelief. As suddenly as it had showed up, the ghost now dissipated into the air.

"Make sure Shuro's all right," said Haku tersely as he strode over to Ashitare's bed. Hatsuharu didn't need to be told; he'd already started shaking Shuro, who was beginning to revive. Ashitare gasped when Haku touched her shoulder. "It's okay, Ashitare, it's not your fault. Come on, let's go out for a minute." She didn't resist as Haku gently pulled her off the bed and guided her past the other girls and boys. Haku reassured them that everything was under control now.

"Shuro just had a terrible nightmare, that's all," Hotohori could be heard explaining the screaming to the servants. In a lower voice, she added, "As a child, she was always terrified of the Ice. She grew up in Lhose, which is so close to the Ice, you know." When the servants began murmuring their sympathies and offering their own horror stories about the Ghobrin Ice, Haku knew Hotohori had them covered. The other Dzunis returned to their rooms.

Ashitare remained speechless as Haku softly steered her towards his room with a hand on her back. He wasn't sure where else to go, but anywhere was fine as long as it was away from the servants. Sneaking a peek at Ashitare, he felt great pity when he saw her hunched shoulders and lost expression. Her lips moved, barely making any audible sound. Even Haku's excellent ears couldn't pick up what she said. "What was that again?" he asked, faintly surprised she had spoken first. For most of the previous afternoon and evening, she dared not speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I-it c-ca-came out of m-me…" she stammered quietly, stopping in the middle of the boys' hallway.

"The ghost?" Ashitare nodded tensely. Haku noticed that minor worry lines were already etching themselves onto her forehead, and briefly wondered if he had any.

"Ashitare," Haku spoke softly to thwart any unseen eavesdroppers, and started walking again to his room. "I had the same look you did when I saw Faran-Zhuku come of my body for the first time." Earlier, while all the Dzuni were together, they'd introduced themselves to the newcomers, and Haku explained about his fickle and dangerous spirit.

The two reached Haku's door. "Faran-Zhuku will probably be out," warned Haku. "He's not a pretty sight, but he won't hurt you because you're a Dzuni. He told me your wolf would appear, and he may be able to tell you what your powers do. Or he may be too tired. You understand?" Ashitare inclined her head once, visibly nervous. Putting his hand on the doorknob, Haku suddenly wished his room were a little neater. Feeling silly for thinking such a thing, he turned the knob.

Sure enough, Faran-Zhuku was there, sleeping soundly in Haku's bed. At their entrance, the black ghost awoke, his red eyes taking in the newcomer. Ashitare gasped and moved back involuntarily, but Haku kept a steady hand on her back and closed the door. He immediately switched on his desk lamp, and cleared a pile of drawings off his desk chair. "Please sit," he said, gesturing to the chair. Ashitare obeyed reluctantly, still watching the ghost fearfully. Haku turned his empty laundry basket upside down and sat on it, next to Ashitare.

"This is Faran-Zhuku, Ashitare," said Haku. Ashitare's brown eyes took in the phantom's abused body. The bald spots were many, and blood matted the coat in several spots. Some nasty cuts gaped in the bald spots, and the forelegs looked like they'd been chewed.

**"Relax, monkey. I not kill you,"** Faran-Zhuku rumbled nonchalantly. Trembling at the deep voice, Ashitare thought she detected an amused smirk on Faran-Zhuku's face.

Haku glared at his spirit, willing it to be nicer to Ashitare, which only entertained Faran-Zhuku more. Chuckling sardonically, he added, **"I not hurt her, either."**

"Shut up." Haku's eyes narrowed. "Can you tell Ashitare anything about her wolf?"

"I-I-I…" began Ashitare. She gulped and tried again. Haku prayed Faran-Zhuku wouldn't comment on her stuttering, but the ghost remained silent while she finished. "I th-thought I was su-sup-sup-supposed t-t-to be a monkey?"

**"Don't be monkey,"** replied Faran-Zhuku. He could feel something snap inside his mind. One of his fits was coming on again. He lay his head on his scarred forelegs, and closed his eyes.

"What does that mean?" demanded Haku. Faran-Zhuku's head shot up, and he snapped his jaws at nothing. Ashitare instinctively clutched Haku's pajama top with her hands, and he realized Faran-Zhuku was losing control of himself. "Get inside me now!" Haku commanded. As the ghost dissolved into a black haze, it said, **"Ask rabbit."** The haze drifted into Haku.

"Sorry about that, Ashitare," Haku said, patting her hands. "Faran-Zhuku has a shaky grip on his sanity, still. Comes from being affected by the curse for so long."

"Is my wolf like that, too?" wondered Ashitare. She was obviously remembering that Faran-Zhuku had killed people, and fearful hers would be as difficult to monitor.

"If it were, it would've already killed by now, so it's not like Faran-Zhuku," reassured Haku. "Your ghost seems a little scared to me, just as you are." Ashitare's face turned crimson, and her hands felt hot under Haku's. The contact with her hands suddenly felt awkward to Haku, and he quickly took his hand away. Ashitare avoided his eyes, and Haku looked at the wall in front of them. The strange silence continued for a few moments, until Haku cleared his throat and said in a businesslike tone, "Well, I'm not sure what Faran-Zhuku was trying to say. In answer to your question, I mean."

Ashitare picked her fingers, and finally turned her face to Haku's. She said nothing, but her look was questioning. "I suppose it won't hurt to ask Rhosu tomorrow," sighed Haku.

They stood up, and Haku opened the door for Ashitare. She got out of the chair, her arms crossed over her chest. "Will you come with me tomorrow?" asked Ashitare in a tiny voice, and in such a rushed manner Haku almost missed the question altogether.

"Okay," he agreed, smiling lopsidedly at her. Briefly, she flashed him a grateful smile, and Haku thought her bronze hair caught the light well. Then she departed, heading back to her room.

Ten minutes after the commotion over the ghost in Shuro and Ashitare's room, Ashiri at last returned to her room. Rhosu had changed into a pink nightshirt, and hurriedly placed her pet bunny, Laren, back into the cage upon seeing Ashiri's arrival. After the thorny rant Ashiri threw at her, Rhosu didn't want to take any risks. Glancing surreptitiously towards her roommate, Rhosu noticed that Ashiri's eyes were red and swollen.

"Were you badly frightened by that scream?" Rhosu's concern overcame her voice of reason's behest to remain silent.

"I'm all right," said Ashiri curtly, "I was just surprised, that's all." She crawled under her covers, and switched her nightstand lamp off. Turning to face the wall, Ashiri didn't speak another word. Rhosu stood in her bunny slippers next to her bed, observing Ashiri. So, thought Rhosu, my suspicions were correct. Ashiri is as vulnerable as the rest of us, despite the tough front she puts up. Rhosu shook her head sadly, as she too turned in for bed.


	45. Chapter 47

Long chap here...As always, please feel free to R&R, or ask questions if you want.

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, Alice 19th belongs to Yuu Watase, and Tokyo Babylon belongs to CLAMP. Anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me. (Catches breath) That should take care of it.

**Chapter 47**

Saturday mornings were an universal time of respite from obnoxious alarm clocks for students, and it was the one morning of the week when no family or school obligations hung over the young Dzunis' heads. They did as they wished—some blissfully slept away the entire morning, as Haku, Khosure, and Shuro invariably did. Rhena regularly bemoaned their sleeping habits, but everyone knew she wasn't really serious.

The morning risers either lazed about the house, or engaged in their favorite hobbies. Hatsuharu often practiced his violin in a seldom used solar on the second floor, from whose windows one could see the central fountain in the gardens. Of course, the other advantage of this solar's location was its far distance from the Dzunis' rooms, which ensured leaving the sleepers in peace. Lhurone had taken to playing his handcrafted flute more often, in one of the elegant, old-fashioned rooms on the first floor. Hatsumi and Khezuke preferred to take advantage of the exercise room, added by Asheno to help keep up the Dzunis' fitness. In a fit of clarity ten years ago, Asheno had prudently created more spaces within the fences of the estate to provide more diversion for the Dzunis. The intention, naturally, was to prevent the Dzuni from becoming too bored due to their isolation, and sneaking off the grounds. As part of this initiative, Asheno had allowed the main house to be opened for exploration, excepting his own chambers.

Only Haku and Hatsuharu had wandered through much of the house, though. The newer Dzuni were less inclined to do so because the sheer size and the darkness and mustiness of many of the rooms intimidated them. Like all old houses with long histories, some rooms contained their own auras, and the odd servant claimed to have seen a ghost. In any case, everyone seemed to have found a particular room to take refuge in, when they wanted some quiet. The most recent additions, Ashiri, Rhosu, and Ashitare, hadn't yet discovered their niches within the house. But since the main house contained over a hundred rooms, not including the kitchens and basement areas, they would have no difficulty in finding a retreat.

On this particular Saturday, however, the morning dynamics shifted. The normal early risers were tardy getting out of bed, due to the midnight excitement over the bronze wolf's appearance. At midmorning, Haku jerked to wakefulness, his face and pillow wet with tears. His erratic breathing gradually calmed as he realized he'd just been having a bad dream. The bedcovers were twisted uncomfortably around his legs and arms, constricting his body's movements.

After he untangled his limbs and flexed his right arm to bring feeling back into it, Haku struggled to recall the contents of the dream. Murky images of a smoky red room resolved into a chamber with hangings of various red, rose, and purplish-red hues draped luxuriously along the walls. An ornate gold-plated mirror, like the one Asheno had in his chamber, hung on one wall, surrounded by its own special red curtain. A bed sat on a dais at one end of the room. The king-sized bed's white canopy and sheets contrasted sharply with the red and purple explosion. Delicate, lacy red hearts studded the quilt. It reminded Haku of a tackily decorated honeymoon suite at a cheap hotel. The material was rich—silks, gossamers, and muslins—stuff the Shoma family could afford.

Haku was in the dream, but not as himself. His shoulders ached from the full formal hekasho he wore, a style in fashion at the turn of the century. Nowadays such hekashos would only be seen in museums and traditional performances. The hekasho's fabric was cut from gleaming silk, reinforced by thicker fabrics, which added considerable poundage to the outfit. Its white upper half melded into a light blue lower half. The stiff robe was slit in the front, displaying dark blue undergarments that better displayed the gentler colors. A pin strategically placed under the wide sash held the outer garment together.

The hekasho was much too heavy for the room, apparently set at the same temperature as Asheno's receiving chamber during the peak of summer. Haku struggled to breathe in the familiarly stuffy air, and his crying made it more difficult. It was a quiet, strangled sort of crying; he did not want this person to hear him sobbing freely.

Concentrating hard to recall the rest of the dream better, Haku thought that he'd been a Dzuni, but he didn't know which one. Perhaps it was one of Faran-Zhuku's memories, one from roughly a hundred years ago. Such dreams often occurred when Faran-Zhuku had one of his insane fits and couldn't control his repository of memories as well. Usually the dreams were much more jumbled and difficult to make sense of, unlike this one.

Someone spoke in a demanding, disembodied voice, "See what happens when you love someone? See? See?" The voice repeated the question again, and this time it sounded more like Asheno. Haku had stopped crying, and looked up at the bed.

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha_

_(Spring is still far away)_

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha_

_(Spring is still far away)_

The song's opening line played incessantly in the background, always in the same unknown child's voice, a clueless child who'd not yet grasped the song's sadness.

A younger Asheno, the twenty-something Asheno Haku had seen in the visions, stood behind the bed, smiling gleefully at him. His skin remained smooth, untouched by the wrinkles and shadows the older Asheno possessed. Next to him, stood a man of the same age. He looked exactly like Asheno, except his body was gaunter and his black hair long and shaggy.

"She wasn't right for you, anyway," remonstrated Asheno, wagging a scolding finger at Haku. He'd heard that somewhere in the visions, but he couldn't remember when, at the moment.

"That is the way it has always been," intoned the unknown man, exposing yellow teeth as he gave Haku a fatalistic, malicious grin. His eyes were devoid of any human emotion. Then he broke into hysterical laughter.

"Now you will love only me," said Asheno, in a woman's voice, and spinning around in place happily. Haku felt his person's heart break, a physical pain like a burning sensation forming in his chest, as he looked at the bed. A beautiful, brown-haired woman with an oval face lay on the bed, blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, and a pool of blood on her torso and the heart-studded quilt. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if in surprise, and her lips' deep red coloring clashed glaringly with the blue shadows appearing in her face from death. The image faded in a cacophony of noise from the madman's laughter and the song skipping like a broken record.

Haku sat on his bed, and shook his head to rid himself of the dream's remnants. Much as he wished to, the haunting image of the perished woman wouldn't vanish. Rubbing his wet face with his pajama sleeve, Haku wondered if the dream was supposed to be a message. Its timing was certainly curious. His spirits dropping even more, Haku recalled how Hatsuharu and Shuro had been flirting with each other a lot. Only someone both blind and deaf could miss the chemistry between the two. Asheno might not approve, even if they were both members of the Dzuni. Their god was too unstable these days.

Quickly putting an old hekasho on over the pajamas, Haku washed his face and left his room. He followed the hallways of the second floor, until he reached Hatsuharu's favorite solar. Hatsuharu had just arrived minutes earlier, and was in the process of tuning his violin when Haku knocked on the doorframe.

"Hey," Hatsuharu said, still adjusting a string. The violin was an old one, but it had been finely made, and remained in excellent condition thanks to Hatsuharu's care. The morning sun streamed through the windows. Unfortunately, it was the time of year when the sun would not warm the earth until well into the afternoon, when it had been up long enough. The warmth of the solar was entirely attributable to the heating system.

Haku stepped inside, and closed the door behind him for privacy. "I need to talk with you about something important."

"You won't even say 'hello' first?" The jest faded away as Hatsuharu noticed how serious Haku's voice sounded. Not to mention it was highly unusual for him to be up early, and he seemed disoriented, as though he fell out of bed. "What's going on with you? Did Faran-Zhuku give you an unwelcome wake-up call?"

"Sort of." Haku couldn't help grinning slightly. "How's the violin?"

Hatsuharu took the violin off his shoulder, and said lightly, "It's fine. Well? I assume you didn't come to ask after my violin's health. What is it?"

For the first time it occurred to Haku that Hatsuharu might take what he had to say poorly. He stood in the middle of the room, at a loss for how to begin. "Um…" Finally, he settled on the straightforward tack. Tact had never been one of his greatest strengths, anyway. "How interested are you in Shuro?"

Hatsuharu stared, caught off-guard. Deliberately, he laid the violin in its case, and shut it. He straightened back up, sighed, looked Haku in the eye, and answered, "I love her."

Blinking in surprise, Haku contemplated his dear friend silently. Frankly, he had difficulty understanding Hatsuharu's interest in Shuro. To Haku, Shuro seemed too flighty and attention loving for a practical sort such as Hatsuharu. "That was quick, Hatsuharu. Are you sure it's not just infatuation?" Immediately Haku knew he'd struck a wrong note, when the bull gave him an annoyed look.

"No, it's not a passing lust," said Hatsuharu defensively. "Since that day in Lhose when we were at her house, I've wanted to protect her and be near her. We both love music, and she's one of the few people I can have a long conversation with about music."

"Protect her? It's not just a Dzuni instinct, is it?"

"Why are you questioning me so much?" Hatsuharu's voice raised a notch, and anger replaced his annoyance. Damn it, Haku scolded himself, you're beginning to sound as jealous as Asheno. Haku sorely regretted not first consulting a more talented diplomat, such as Hotohori or Lhurone. Maybe he was a little jealous, Haku had to admit to himself. Before, no one else had seriously claimed as much of Hatsuharu's time as he'd done.

"Sorry, I was out of place," conceded Haku. The hard expression softened slightly on Hatsuharu's face, and Haku took that as a sign to continue. "I'm just concerned because of Asheno."

"Asheno," groaned Hatsuharu, and he seemed so miserable that it wrung Haku's heart. Obviously the bull agonized over the possibility of Asheno's interference. "What am I going to do? I don't want to hide my feelings for Shuro because that would mean giving in to Asheno."

"It may be the best thing to do, Hatsuharu."

"She and I are both Dzunis, Haku. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Personally, I wouldn't test Asheno. He's incredibly jealous, remember. We were basically born to give him the homage and admiration he felt he deserved as the god of the Dzuni. My visions have shown me countless examples of lovers being attacked by Asheno. Shuro may be safer if you don't get into a serious relationship with her right now." Hatsuharu didn't respond, and remained thoughtful, considering his options.

"Well, what if Shuro and I don't act affectionate to each other just while we're on the estate grounds?"

"That'll work only if Asheno doesn't know anything, and I'm pretty sure he's already noticed the sparks between you and Shuro. The servants talk too much, and Asheno hears them. Besides, Shuro is much more obvious than you are, and I don't want you paying the price for your feelings."

"You don't want me suffering at Asheno's hand? What about Shuro? Or don't you care what she thinks?" Hatsuharu asked snidely. Haku cursed himself again for letting his tongue slip and reveal his antipathy to Shuro. The bull shook his head and sighed, speaking in a contrite tone, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. All this is putting me in a bad mood."

"I'm sorry, too. I'll give you some privacy." Haku departed the room quickly, sorry that the old minefield of romance was rearing its ugly head in the Dzuni again, and that Hatsuharu had to be one of the first to enter it. His concern for Hatsuharu was so great that it never occurred to Haku to wonder what he would do if he ever became trapped in the minefield himself.

Outside in the gardens, Rhosu walked among the withering plants, enjoying one of the last days above sixty degrees. Her beloved pet bunny Laren nestled in her arms. It was the first time either had seen the Shoma gardens from close up. Intrigued by the sight of a wild-looking section overrun by tall weeds and feral plants, Rhosu changed directions and trotted into the northwest corner. She'd not been on the estate long enough to sense the fear people felt for that part of the gardens.

Rhosu looked with awe upon the proud bushes and grasses almost as tall as her head. She was the shortest of the Dzuni thus far, shorter even than Shuro. A few ragged blossoms stubbornly clung to a hibiscus bush, the once bright pink petals fading to a dull grayish-peach. Sitting on one side of a crumbling stone bench carved with unidentifiable flowers, Rhosu set Laren down on the opposite side of the bench. The cream-colored bunny sighed.

"What's wrong, Laren?" asked Rhosu, stroking the bunny's soft fur. By now, she'd learned to interpret her magical rabbit's moods well. The white cottontail twitched.

"I haven't seen this garden in such a long time," replied Laren. "It brings back memories." Rhosu caught the tone and did not press any further. They sat in silence for a long time, contemplating the ominous overgrowth.

The wolf was actually one of four Dzunis who possessed animal familiars, as Laren had explained to Rhosu a few years ago. That was why Rhosu was the only person who was not surprised to hear about Faran-Zhuku. It seemed perfectly rational to her that Haku would have a phantom ghost accompanying him everywhere. Rhosu believed, according to what Laren had told her, that certain Dzunis such as the wolf and rabbit could only achieve the full potential of their powers with the help of the familiars.

While it was not wholly false, it was not completely true, either. Laren felt that Rhosu and the other Dzuni were not ready to know all of the truth yet. Unbeknownst to her master, Laren was an ancient demon, like Faran-Zhuku. For the last five hundred years, the curse had forced Laren to possess one poor soul after another, in a weakened form, and Laren had witnessed the terrible toll exacted by the curse in each generation. Her heart bled for each person, because her natural compassion inevitably led her to develop a fondness for the people she possessed. But she couldn't do anything to help, couldn't even advise them. She could only watch as they suffered. It was enough to drive a demon insane.

The day the curse was broken remained fresh in Laren's mind. It had happened quietly and instantly. Being cursed made the demons feel as though they were trapped in thick, heavy mud. As hard as she struggled to break free of the grimy feeling, it sucked her back in. Then one day she realized she'd left her possessed one's body and mind. She floated, gloriously clean and light at last, and looked upon Nharu, bent over his desk, cutting out cards for his family. Laren still smiled to herself whenever she remembered that moment—the serenity of the image contrasted so sharply and ironically with the curse's horrors and the chaotic fallout from its end. She knew Nharu would be fine afterwards, because he had a strong enough soul.

Laren retreated to the demon world for several years, until Rhosu was born. The demon bunny could not remain in the human world because the spiritual bond between the demons and Dzunis had broken. Some of the other demons had gone mad and were uncontrollable, some were in ill health from the curse's strain, and the sorcerer-priest who had always served as the mediator between the Shomas and the demons in pre-curse times was also unaccounted for. That sorcerer was the one who looked after the demons and made sure their bonds with the Shomas stayed healthy. Laren did not have any idea what had happened to the priest, and nor did any of the other sane demons she'd chanced to speak with.

Of course, the man who'd been the priest when the curse started, Sakurazuka Sezuko, would not still be alive today, at least not in corporeal form. Laren wished she knew whether the Dzuni priests had the ability to preserve their souls for long periods of time. The priests were great sorcerers, and they had quite possibly been the most powerful ones in their day. A spell to keep a soul alive might have been doable for a particularly talented sorcerer.

On the day of Rhosu's birth, eighteen years ago come next spring, Laren, huddled in her hutch back in the spirit world, had felt the automatic pull from the human world. At that moment, she realized that the Dzuni had somehow been restored to their proper forms. The other Dzunis she had spoken with assumed the sorcerer-priests were gone forever, and Laren had also assumed this to be true. The summons meant that a sorcerer-priest still existed somewhere, either in the human or spirit plane. Amazed, she'd traversed the continuum to the human world, and traced the pull to Lhasa. Since it was not necessary for the demons to possess the Dzuni in mind and body, unlike under the curse, Laren was able to watch Rhosu from afar.

As always, when she pondered such things, Laren began to feel a headache. She'd not passed any of that information on to Rhosu. The bunny demon first wanted to see if she could discover the sorcerer-priest's whereabouts, and to take stock of the other demons' conditions. So far, what she had observed was greatly discouraging. The phantom wolf almost snapped her head off when she approached him two nights ago. She'd gathered since then the wolf demon's psyche was devastated. Most of the demons had not even dared to venture into the human world. That hardly surprised Laren. During the curse, while the demons were so disordered and no priest existed, all sorts of miscreant spirits and evil lesser demons invaded the spirit world. High-level demons such as Laren would provide an excellent meal for such scum, and most likely, the Dzuni's demons had to hide to keep themselves safe.

An idea occurred suddenly to Laren. Her ears perked. "Rhosu."

"Yes?" Rhosu's eyes refocused; she was just about to doze off.

"Take me to the big black tree, the one over to the right."

"You're still ordering me around?" laughed Rhosu, picking up Laren. "Even after I've taken such good care of you all these years?" The tree in question was easily within sight. Old Blood loomed, its gnarled branches as bare as ever, at the end of the trodden path.

"Gee, I'd never noticed this tree before." Rhosu gulped, the smile vanishing quickly.

"You feel its strange aura, don't you?" Laren said in a quiet voice, noting the weak pulsing beat sounding from Old Blood, like the heartbeat she felt when Rhosu carried her against her chest. Secretly, Laren was pleased Rhosu had honed her powers well enough to even sense the aura radiating from the tree, although Rhosu probably couldn't pick up the rhythmic pulsing. It was an ancient aura Laren's demon body responded to instinctively, the same response experienced by all demons who'd sworn loyalty to the sorcerer-priests in bygone times. The spiritual bonds had not been completely broken, after all.

"This aura reminds me of blood," murmured Rhosu, seeing the tree in a frightening new light. "Did a murder take place here?"

"Well, this tree has been here for almost a millennium," Laren carefully answered, not wanting to share Old Blood's secrets with Rhosu just yet. The bunny resolved to put off explaining about the demons and spirit world to the Dzuni until she could find the priest. Without the Sakurazukamori, the official title of the priest, the other demons would likely not emerge until the spirit world was safe again. Laren had just happened to be unusually brave, and possibly stupid enough, to risk leaving. Also, only the Sakurazukamori could have any chance to repair the severely frayed bonds between the demons and Dzuni. Laren wasn't concerned about Faran-Zhuku spilling the beans, because the wolf clearly was of the same mind as she—the kids weren't ready to know. Those poor kids had enough problems of their own, if the angry Ashiri and the tormented Haku were any indication. There was no need for them to shoulder the woes of the spirit world as well.

"Why don't we go back to the house, Rhosu?" suggested Laren, noticing Rhosu's shiver.

"Good idea," heartily agreed Rhosu, skipping away from the tree.

Ashitare and Haku appeared at Rhosu's door late in the afternoon. Ashiri was nestled deep in a corner of the old library at the moment, so Rhosu and Laren were the only ones in the room.

"Come in," said Rhosu, beaming, glad for company. Laren hopped to the end of Rhosu's bed, to get a better look at the new arrivals. She hadn't been able to take a full measure of Haku or Ashitare until now. Haku particularly interested Laren; the phantom wolf was traditionally one of the most important members of the Dzuni, and one of the most volatile. Laren found herself marveling that Haku had remained sane despite Asheno; so much anger and darkness seethed within Haku that Laren could almost see a black fog hovering over his heart.

"Have you met my bunny yet?" Rhosu was saying, scooping up Laren and hugging her. "This is Laren. You might say she's my little ghost, sort of like Faran-Zhuku."

"Oh, really?" Haku reciprocated Laren's interest in him. A goofy thought crossed his mind and he grinned. "Laren doesn't gnaw through people's necks, does she?"

Rhosu laughed gaily. "Of course not! A sweet little bunny like this?"

"D-does La-Laren t-t-talk?" stuttered Ashitare. Rhosu and Haku were the only two people, thus far, that she felt comfortable enough to attempt speaking to. They didn't mock her stuttering, finish her sentences for her, or lose patience.

"Yes, I can talk," said Laren. "And my teeth are not sharp enough to decapitate anyone." She settled into the soft curves of Rhosu's lap.

"Unlike Faran-Zhuku," scoffed Haku, taking a seat on the edge of Ashiri's meticulously made bed. Ashitare joined him a moment later. "Speaking of wolves, Rhosu, Ashitare and I came here to ask about her ghost wolf."

Laren's ears perked. "What about it?" asked Rhosu, a quizzical look on her face.

"F-faran-Zhuku sa-said t-t-to ask you t-to expl-explain m-my ghost t-t-to me." Ashitare's cheeks reddened slightly; it'd been a while since she tried to say a relatively long sentence.

"Hmm, I'm sorry, I don't know anything about it," Rhosu shook her head apologetically. Her eyes brightened hopefully as an idea came to her. "But maybe Laren does."

"I wasn't aware Faran-Zhuku was actually cogent," Laren remarked to Haku.

Haku scratched behind an ear absently. "Well, yeah…some of the time. He's got problems, though, because the curse affected him so badly. His mind's getting better all the time, but he still suffers fits of insanity. He's having one now, and he's hiding inside my body." The little bunny was staring at Haku intently, which made him squirm slightly.

"I see," murmured Laren vaguely. The rabbit chuckled quietly.

"What?" demanded Haku.

"Nothing," giggled Laren. "Just a private demon joke." She would let Haku discover for himself Faran-Zhuku's real sex someday.

"D-demon?" gasped Ashitare. Her mother had always lectured her about how bad demons were.

"A good demon," interjected Rhosu hastily.

"Faran-Zhuku is a demon as well," explained Laren, "as is your ghost wolf, Ashitare." Adding in a perky voice, "Contrary to the impression Faran-Zhuku may have made upon you, generally you should not think of demons in a poor light. Many of us are perfectly decent.

"As for your wolf, Ashitare, it is actually a lower-form demon. In the demon world, it is what would be known as a shadow. It's not your Dzuni demon, but rather, one of your Dzuni demon's companions. In your case, your shadow can actually assume all the shapes of the Dzuni animals, but it cannot assume their powers as well. Also, you can't--"

"I'm c-con-confused," interrupted Ashitare, "why a-a wolf and n-not a m-m-monkey?"

"Yes," added Haku. "Faran-Zhuku said something mysterious like, 'don't be monkey.' We didn't understand it at all. He doesn't always bother to explain what he says; I know all too well."

Before Laren could respond, Rhosu bounced on the bed, jiggling her rabbit precariously. "Oh! Maybe Faran-Zhuku was referring to that old saying, Haku, you know. The one about not imitating people like a trained monkey?"

"Precisely," said Laren, still jarred from Rhosu's sudden move. "Ashitare, your shadow's primary form is that of a monkey, but for some reason it turned into a wolf. Perhaps you have a special fondness for wolves?" Laren couldn't resist adding a teasing note, and gleefully she observed Ashitare covering her flushing cheeks and Haku glaring menacingly back at her.

Resuming her lecturing voice, Laren then said, "Ashitare, ask your shadow to show itself. You should be properly introduced to it."

"How?"

"Just think, 'Please come out.' It's quite simple, really." Giving Laren a doubtful glance, Ashitare scrunched her eyes shut, making her appear constipated. "No need to press yourself so hard," added Laren. "Relax."

Summarily a white glowing circle materialized by Ashitare's feet, and resolved itself into a small monkey, similar to a tamarin. Turning its large dark brown eyes upon Rhosu, then Haku, the monkey then scrambled up Ashitare's legs, tickling her.

"Ooh, it's so cute!" cooed Rhosu. The little shadow had the same bronze-colored as its wolf manifestation. Ashitare squeaked as it clambered onto her shoulder. From its perch, it peered at Haku from behind Ashitare's neck.

"It's a girl," declared Laren.

"How do you know?" asked Haku, curiously watching the petite primate.

"My demon sense tells me," Laren replied primly. "Ashitare, meet Kidzi. She will obey anything you tell her to do, but keep in mind she can't inflict physical injury on anyone or talk. Kidzi makes an adorable companion, though, if I may say so. You ought to spend as much time as you can with her for a few days, and familiarize yourself with her abilities."

By now Ashitare had gotten used to the feel of Kidzi on her body, and plucked Kidzi off her shoulder in order to get a better look. The two monkeys stared at each other. A shy smile began to spread across Ashitare's face, and eventually turned into a beaming grin.

"I'm so happy that Ashitare's got a demon who won't judge her," said Rhosu, late that night. She was preparing for bed, and slipping on a t-shirt decorated in a vivid rainbow motif. The t-shirt was a tad tight in Laren's opinion, but at least her charge used it only as sleepwear. "It's lucky you were here to explain about Kidzi to her. I think Kidzi's a very fitting name, don't you, for a demon that can change into a lot of different animals?" The name "Kidzi" meant "creature" in Hothan.

"Indeed," agreed Laren amiably. Rhosu's unmade bed provided a wonderfully comfy surface for her to sit on. Her mother had never succeeded in making Rhosu neaten her bed, for which Laren now felt immensely grateful. Yawning, Rhosu stretched her arms full length, then plopped onto the bed, taking care to avoid crushing Laren. The blonde sat with her back against the wall, thoughtfully examining the smooth off-white ceiling. She didn't notice Laren casually watching her.

Every now and then, the demon bunny would marvel at Rhosu's fortitude. Of course, the Dzuni rabbit was built with a strong, compassionate heart It needed one. Even when taking that into consideration, being the rabbit was still a difficult lot, like the phantom wolf. Rather than recalling memories, Rhosu possessed the power to see and sense the contents of people's inner hearts.

Hothans, although still clinging to beliefs about ghosts and demons, had long forgotten that their terrestrial world was not the only one that existed. Instead, it coexisted simultaneously with several spiritual planes. The inner heart was one such place, separate from both the human and demon worlds. Like the world of demons, the inner heart did not intersect with the human world. Only a human specially trained, using the right tools, could enter the inner heart. All the fears and hopes that people harbored manifested themselves in metaphorical form inside the inner heart. For example, a child who was ignored and unloved by his or her parents might have an inner heart that resembled a desert bereft of any life. Laren fantasized that Asheno's inner heart looked like the interior of the Ghobrin Ice, complete with eternal blizzards, enormous sheets of ice, and merciless winds. Each inner heart varied according to the individual, and the forms inner hearts could take on varied infinitely.

When Laren first explained this to a ten-year-old Rhosu, it confused Rhosu. The little girl thought the inner heart was only one place, but then Laren told her there were many different inner hearts. In painstaking detail, Laren clarified by saying that the inner heart was like the universe. The universe had many planets, moons, and star clusters, each with its own characteristics, and all of which combined to form one huge unit. Similarly, the inner heart world contained hundreds of millions of different people's unique inner hearts. Each inner heart was connected to another, as individuals interacted with each other, and thus creating an endless web, which formed a whole world. Later, when Rhosu told the Dzuni about her powers, she used the same explanation Laren had given her, for the Dzuni were just as stymied as she'd been.

Rhosu's job was to make sure the dark miasmas inside people's souls didn't overwhelm the delicate and ever-changing balance between negative and positive feelings. The more intense the dark elements (such as jealousy and anger) were in a person's inner heart, the more visible his or her miasma was. Only Rhosu and Laren could see miasmas, which were invisible to everyone else. Miasmas took a wide variety of forms, anything from a black fog hovering over someone's head, to an emaciated goblin clinging to the torso, or a sad-looking muddy glob trailing behind the person.

A talisman and a short list of words served as the tools of Rhosu's trade. The Rhonimori ("truth holder") allowed Rhosu to enter the inner heart with a simple incantation: "Zhos ishuro (person's name)zi sharelen." (Let light pierce this person's darkness.) Not just anybody could learn the incantation and use the Rhonimori; the person had to have a relatively pure heart. Otherwise, nothing else could stir the Rhonimori into action.

In contrast to Rhosu's warmth, the Rhonimori struck one as severe and forbidding. It was a circular piece of a rare mirror surface referred to in the old days as "nightglass." While it was inactive, the mirror reflected nothing, and its surface remained perfectly black. Nightglass was once believed to have powerful spiritual properties. The Rhonimori's long-gone maker had mounted the mirror on a silver pendant. The result was that the mirror appeared to be in the center of a series of ripples. The diameter of the mirror measured no more than one inch. Including the silver rim, the talisman was no larger than two inches across. Rhosu wore the pendant on a silver chain at all times; it was flat enough not to attract notice through a shirt.

However much Rhosu wore the Rhonimori, its cold surface never warmed. Only when Rhosu used it to enter someone's inner heart, did it suddenly seem to sear a hole in her chest. The sensation required some time to adjust to—the burning caused Rhosu to scream the first time she used the Rhonimori. When activated, the nightglass shone an icy white, and for the duration of Rhosu's time in the inner heart, luminescent swirls of colors flowed and ebbed across the mirror's surface.

Once she entered someone's inner heart, Rhosu would locate the miasma. Unlike in the human world, in which they appeared as mere phantoms, miasmas invariably became magnified and more dangerous. In the inner heart, they had physical forms that were capable of harming Rhosu. Fortunately for Rhosu, Laren always accompanied her. By now, Rhosu was quite accomplished at exorcising miasmas, but every so often a perilous situation arose that required Laren's expertise. Laren only offered advice; it was not within her abilities to actually intervene during a miasma battle. For example, on Rhosu's second trip into the inner heart, a glutinous miasma almost strangled her with its tentacle. Rhosu had been so frightened that she'd forgotten the right words, and Laren shouted them into her ear while deftly dodging swinging tentacles. Thus Rhosu narrowly avoided death.

The weapons of Rhosu's trade consisted of a list of twenty "life-giving" words. These were words whose positive force was considered vital for the maintenance of a healthy inner heart and a happy person. Learning the life-givers, as Laren called them, was an arduous process. In order to use each one effectively, Rhosu had to experience its essence first. That meant cleansing her own inner heart, and conquering any uncertain thoughts in her mind. The entire process took two and a half years, a short time by Laren's standards, but a long time for Rhosu.

Language barriers contributed the second difficulty in learning the life-givers. Of course, Rhosu also needed to pronounce the words flawlessly, not an easy task. First, the list had been compiled in ancient times, before the Hothan language evolved to its modern version. Rhosu often had to bite her tongue in order to not say "lheren" (love) instead of the archaic "chiren." Hothans had dropped the "ch" about six hundred years back.

Next, the majority of the words weren't even of Hothan origin. Gogothan and Zi Aldan each donated as many words to the list as Hothan. In addition to tackling archaic Hothan, Rhosu stumbled over the consonantal clusters of Zi Aldan and the subtle intonations of the eastern Gogothan dialect. Zi Aldan words such as "taltra" (courage) and "storziavy" (forgiveness) echoed in Rhosu's dreams for two months. In those dreams, the commonly held images in Hoth of Zi Aldans as being harshly militant came alive, and drill sergeants would yell at Rhosu for butchering their perfect language.

The Gogothan words were by far the most agonizing. "Too many vowels," as Laren huffed. However, that was not the worst problem. If Rhosu missed the slightest nuance in intonation, it changed the meaning completely. For example, Rhosu kept saying "houn," which meant "breath" or "wind," in a too-static voice. The result was a word that would horrify native Gogothans. The demon bunny's mouth dropped wide open and stared at Rhosu as though she were an unholy apparition. Even now that Rhosu was a teenager, Laren still blushed and refused to tell Rhosu what she had actually said then, deeming it too profane for her charge's delicate ears.

Nevertheless, Rhosu conquered the twenty words, and now commanded them skillfully. She'd proven to be quite an excellent inner heart keeper, and she bore the burdens well. The only remaining hardship Laren had with her, if it even qualified as a hardship, was keeping Rhosu from trying to expel every single person's miasma. Rhosu's big heart wept even for people with the faintest miasmas. Little by little, Rhosu was learning to assign higher priority to the worst cases.

"Laren," Rhosu said pensively, fingering the Rhonimori. Inwardly, the demon groaned. She knew that tone of voice—it was the one Rhosu used whenever she tried to convince Laren of letting her do something not-too-intelligent.

"Yes, Rhosu?" responded Laren wearily.

"Couldn't I do something for the other Dzunis?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Laren hoped against hope Rhosu was merely thinking of putting together cute little candy bags with shiny ribbons, or something similarly harmless and safe. But that was too farfetched; Laren knew what Rhosu had truly meant.

"Some of these Shomas have the worst miasmas I've ever seen," said Rhosu, launching full force into her pleading mode. "I can hardly see Ashiri; her miasma's almost covered her body completely. Then there's Haku—"

"No." The flat denial stopped Rhosu.

"Why not? They really need help—"

"No, I forbid you to go into their inner hearts," said Laren more loudly and firmly. "Dzunis are different from normal people. You can't enter a Dzuni's inner heart without permission."

"Permission?"

"Yes, or you'll die. The miasmas are stronger than the strongest you've encountered up to now." Rhosu's eyes widened, and she sat absolutely still. "You would probably have to fight against the Dzuni spirits as well, which you've never had to do before. Dzuni spirits can enter the inner heart. Do you think you could combat Faran-Zhuku and survive?" Rhosu shook her head. "And stay away from Asheno, too. Especially Asheno. But don't enter anybody's inner heart, just to be safe." It wasn't quite the full truth—only Asheno and Haku posed truly terrible risks to Rhosu's life, but Laren needed to deter Rhosu however she could.

"What makes him so much more dangerous than the rest?"

The bunny didn't answer right away. Laren studied the floor, noting the misshapen stain that resembled coffee. Finally, she spoke sorrowfully, "It has to do with the spirit that most likely possesses Asheno. That spirit…is one you'd never have a chance against." Laren's body trembled, as she thought about how a once magnificent spirit had been transformed, under the curse, into the pathetic likes of Ekhuze and Asheno, with their pitiful, weak bodies and warped minds.

"Which spirit is that?" asked Rhosu, hushed.

"One who will be reincarnated in the next generation of Shomas, I'm sure," said Laren, attempting to inject more joviality into her voice. The attempt failed as she became grave again. "But you won't live to see him or her, if you try to sneak into any Dzuni's inner heart. It isn't often I speak to you like this, Rhosu. Please promise me you won't do anything rash."

"I promise."


	46. Chapter 48

I'm going to stop here for now...more this coming weekend! In the next chapter, the new "cat" finally appears.

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 48**

It was only Tuesday, but the second week of school already promised to be just as eventful and tiring as the first week. Shala slouched in her chair, unable to touch the meager, unappetizing instant soup that cooled on the desk before her. Minutes ago, she'd listened to the Prostitute, as she privately called her heavily made-up, skimpily-dressed next door neighbor, pass on one of the wild stories circulating about Haku's visit to the principal's office. Apparently the principal had all but called him a sorcerer, and let Haku go only because Haku threatened to curse him. Ridiculous! Haku was becoming quite famous at Karori, she reflected, gazing at a now obsolete announcement tacked haphazardly to her bulletin board.

"When are those kids going to be here?" she muttered, looking at her watch for the fifth time. It was three minutes after the second lunch hour had officially begun. Today, she'd arranged to meet with Hotohori and Haku. Maybe she could get the real story about the principal's meeting from Haku.

"Excuse me, Ms. Shoma?" A polite voice from behind Shala jolted her back to reality. Hotohori stood in the doorway, and nodded her head in greeting. Shala grabbed her soup, and a random pile of papers, in order to look as though she was going over actual work with the students.

"Haku's waiting outside," whispered Hotohori as they entered the common area of the Hothan Literature department. "He thought he'd attract too much attention if he came in." True to Hotohori's word, Haku leaned against a locker bank flipping through his math book. He followed the women to an empty conference room around the corner from the office. Each floor had three small rooms large enough to accommodate four people, and teachers were allowed to use them for meeting with colleagues or students. The cramped conditions of the cubicles had prompted the school administration to open such rooms.

Once settled, Haku didn't waste any time with conversational niceties. "I suppose you've already heard about my visit to the principal," he said sardonically.

"I was wondering about that," said Shala ruefully. "I've heard it was quite eventful."

"Let me make this clear. He never accused me of sorcery, at least not outright."

Hotohori fixed a reprimanding glare at Haku. "I still think you could've handled it more gracefully, Haku."

"Come on, Tori, you know that's not how I am." Turning back to Shala, Haku continued, "Anyway, our beloved principal asked me if I was acquainted with wolves in any way." He laughed ironically, while Hotohori rolled her eyes.

"The principal asked you that?" Hotohori asked disbelievingly. "As if anybody would actually admit to that."

"Well, Tori, I said yes."

"What!" Shala remained silent as Hotohori whipped her head around. "You told him everything?"

"No, of course not," scoffed Haku. "I told him that I'd always been fascinated by wolves, and read every book on them as a child. I fed him a bunch of lies about trying to act like a wolf. And when he asked me why I ran right up to the ghost wolf in the cafeteria, I claimed I was so excited by seeing a wolf I forgot about any possible danger."

"And he let you go at that?" Hotohori's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," shrugged Haku. "I think I creeped him out enough. At least he doesn't suspect Ashitare or any of the other Shomas."

"What about Ashitare?" asked Shala, finally scooping some cold soup to her mouth.

"You're saying too much, Haku," hissed Hotohori. She didn't know about Shala's close relation to the family yet.

"Did I forget to tell you? Shala's the daughter of one of the ex-Dzunis," said Haku. "She can be trusted." Both women were speechless momentarily. Hotohori sighed in frustration.

"How did you know that?" asked Shala, surprised.

"My ghost wolf told me yesterday," replied Haku. "You're Shoma Shehure's daughter, right?"

"W-well, yes," stammered Shala, utterly confused. "But did you say 'your' ghost wolf?"

Stepping in authoritatively, Hotohori declared, "You're making a muddle of this, Haku." Facing Shala, Hotohori explained patiently, "Haku's Dzuni spirit is actually a wolf. He doesn't transform into a wolf, but he has a giant black wolf ghost that comes out of his body every now and then. This is not the same wolf that's been appearing at school," added Hotohori.

"The curse is totally changed, then," nodded Shala.

"Faran-Zhuku is the name of Haku's ghost. Apparently Faran-Zhuku holds all the memories of past Dzunis, including your father's generation, Ms. Shoma." Hotohori turned to Haku, and he nodded confirmation.

"Starting at the end of the last school year," said Haku, "and continuing through the summer, Faran-Zhuku subjected me to a whole series of visions that told me the story of how the curse was broken, and a little about what happened afterwards. That's how I learned who you people were."

"Ah. And what about you, Hotohori? What are your powers?"

"I'm the dragon. Once I transformed into a 75-foot scarlet dragon in the Shoma gardens, and a fireball came out of my mouth and obliterated the fountain." Hotohori said it so casually that Shala couldn't resist smiling; a fire-breathing dragon was certainly nothing like a minute seahorse. "I can control fire," continued Hotohori, "as you can see." To demonstrate, she extended her index finger in the air, and a small flame emerged on its tip, like a candle.

"You should be glad Tori didn't blow a fireball," joked Haku. "When she does, her breath smells terrible, like sulfur."

"Haku!" Hotohori could see that their teacher would have to take some time to fully digest the new material, so she cut Haku off. "We'll leave the complicated explanations for later, Ms. Shoma. We don't have enough time today."

Gratefully, Shala agreed and ate a few spoonfuls of soup. The teenagers each pulled out bag lunches packed by Rhena. Only the rustling of plastic bags and chewing sounds could be heard for the next few minutes. Hotohori quickly lost her appetite as it became evident Shala and Haku shared sloppy eating habits in common.

"By the way," said Shala, "is Lhurone all right? From the gang scuffle in my aunt Rin's backyard, I mean?" Seeing the questioning looks, Shala explained, "Rin told all of the Dz…I mean, the ex-Dzuni."

"Shoma Rin? The one who used to be the horse and who's now married to

Hatsuharu?" asked Haku.

Shala paused; she found Haku's knowledge of the family discomforting. He probably knows a lot of the Dzunis' secrets, she realized. Shala wondered just how much Haku knew about her. "Yes. That reminds me. Rin told me she gave your housekeeper her card."

"Ah, that," said Haku. "Rhena wasn't kidding when she told Rin she'd have a hard time getting out from under Asheno's thumb." He grimaced as he spoke his hated guardian's name. "Rin shouldn't expect to hear from Rhena. In the main house, the thin walls make it too easy to eavesdrop."

"Asheno keeps a tight leash on all of us," explained Hotohori, and her composed demeanor sank slightly. "We have to go straight back to the main house after school, and we're not allowed off the grounds on the weekends."

"We're imprisoned," Haku spat out bluntly. A pall hung over the table. Judging from the stormy look on Haku's face and Hotohori's bleak expression, Shala concluded that Asheno must abuse them as well. "But now the old Dzuni know about us," resumed Haku. "Will they be able to get us away from Asheno?" Both kids turned expectant eyes towards Shala.

"Oh, damn," thought Shala. "Um…" she said hesitantly, "They're trying to come up with a way." She wished she could give them a less flabby answer.

"We'll keep thinking, too," said Hotohori calmly. "By the way, in response to your earlier question, Lhurone is fine. In the meanwhile, Ms. Shoma, do you think you could check out this bookstore?" She handed a sheet of notepad paper with an address written in very correct cursive. "The old woman who owns it, Hina, used to know Shoma-mharu Khazuma, and her husband found the cure to the curse. She's got some antiques that may reveal the true nature of the Dzuni."

"You mean the Dzuni as you are now?" Shala examined the address. It would be easy for her to find.

"Hm-mm," confirmed Hotohori. "Can you do this? You'd have much easier access than I would. Just tell Hina I asked you to go there."

"Sure, I will," smiled Shala. Besides, she loved out-of-the-way bookshops.

_Hatsuharu_

Normally eating lunch with Khosure is fun, but ever since I fought with Haku over Shuro, I've been in a funk.

"Hara, you should eat more," nagged Khosure in his best motherly voice. "A fine specimen like you needs his protein." He pinched my biceps to make the point. I didn't even bother to answer.

"Haraaa, what's wrong?" His teasing smile faded, and he studied me more closely.

"Just be quiet and leave me in peace," I snapped.

"Fine." It's unlike him to acquiesce to such a request so obediently, so I knew he'd been genuinely concerned by my behavior.

However, Khosure has never been one for staying quiet for long. "Did Shuro spurn you?"

I stared at him, then started giggling. "No," I said, trying to calm myself down, "it wasn't Shuro. Not directly, anyway."

"Not direc-oww!" Khosure bend over double and covered his eyes with his fists.

"What is it?" I whispered urgently.

"Auugh!" By now he'd started yelling loudly, and other students were beginning to notice. Khosure leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over with a loud bang. Still shielding his eyes, he ran blindly, headed for the doorway, I presumed. Students hurriedly stepped aside, but one first year wasn't quick enough. Food went flying, and Khosure fell to the floor in a tangle with his victim.

"Kho! Calm down!" I shook him roughly. "I'll get you out of here! Stop screaming!" He wasn't listening, and a gaping crowd gathered around us. In desperation, I slapped his cheek hard. At last, he ceased his wild yelling, and his eyes shot open. A big brown blotch from spilled beef stew soiled the front of his white shirt. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, although he wasn't actually crying. I noticed an unusual discharge that looked too thick for normal tears. At that moment, I dismissed it as a trick of the light; it was mostly transparent and didn't last for more than five seconds.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded the lunchroom monitor, who'd edged to the front of the crowd.

I acted quickly. "My friend has a medical condition which causes him to have fits every now and then. The fit's over now. He just needs to spend a few minutes in the nurse's office, and he'll be okay."

"All right then, go to the nurse's office," sighed the monitor. Lifting him by his underarm, I hoisted Khosure to his feet and pulled him towards the door. As soon as we were safely out of sight of the cafeteria entrance, I went around a corner and into the boys' bathroom.

"Come on, Kho, let's get you washed up," I said gently. He obeyed and rinsed his face, then stood looking into the sink for a long time. "What happened?"

"My eyes started hurting, like they were on fire." Khosure spoke in a timid voice, a rare occurrence for someone whose voice could easily carry through the cafeteria and embarrass his friends. His lower lip quivered. "The last time that happened…I burned my guardian into ashes."

I recalled the pile of dust in the sad shack in Ghunene. "Yes, I understand. It scared you very badly, didn't it?"

"I thought those rays would come out again and kill somebody," said Khosure. "That's why I ran." He gulped, straightened, and inhaled deeply. "Will I be able to control my eyes, Hara?"

"I don't know. Can any of us control our powers?" I asked frankly.

After the final period of the day, Shala wasted no time in getting her ratty old car. The street specified by the address was easy to find—it was only seven minutes away from Karori. Most of the parking spaces along the street had already been claimed, so Shala decided to park in the first one she saw, which was at the opposite end of the street from the shop. As she strolled, however, she noticed with a growing feeling of dread that where the shop was supposed to be, was a decrepit-looking building whose windows were boarded. A shining black sedan sat incongruously in front of the dark shop, and a chauffeur stood at attention next to the passenger door.

The shop was indeed closed. Shala regarded the building in bitter disappointment. She'd hoped so much that it would provide more enlightenment about the Neo-Curse, as she privately referred to her students' curse.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you in need of directions?" queried a polite voice ahead of her. The chauffeur had spoken, and his drooping face nodded in respectful acknowledgement of Shala.

"Well, sir, would you happen to know what happened to the bookstore that used to be here?" Shala instinctively adopted a formal tone. Although he was clearly a servant, this chauffeur had the air of one working for a prestigious family. His uniform was immaculate and clearly cost a bit.

"Indeed, ma'am," affirmed the chauffeur sonorously. "It seems that the owner passed away this past summer. She was an elderly lady." A flicker of recognition passed through his eyes, escaping Shala's notice.

"What happened to the merchandise she sold?" Shala blurted. It was a nosy question, and both people knew it. The drooping face became more tragic as the chauffeur regarded Shala carefully. Irrelevantly, Shala thought that the chauffeur resembled a dog that her best friend once owned. Its heavy jowls always made it appear bereaved, but it was quite intelligent and sweet-tempered.

The chauffeur discreetly looked back at the store, and then returned his gaze to Shala. She sensed a subtle unspoken comradeship between them as the chauffeur gave her a kind smile. "My master," he said, speaking softly and slowly, "has a great interest in donating the merchandise to the historical society's archives. The master has always retained an active role in any business concerning the celestial animals." He winked. "You ought to go now. The master will be out soon. Please give Shoma Shehure my best regards."

Shala heard talking from within the shop's shut doors, and after silently nodding thanks to the chauffeur, she turned and impulsively darted into the narrow alley next door. She had to see Asheno for herself; the chauffeur couldn't possibly have meant anyone else. "Celestial animals" was a common euphemism for the Dzuni, so he must have been the Shoma family chauffeur. She peeked around the corner, taking care not to poke her head out too far.

The door opened, and two men came out. One sported a dark blue business suit and carried a briefcase. He was clearly a lawyer of some sort. The other was dressed in a hekasho that was heavy for the still-temperate weather. Numerous streaks of gray ran through his black hair, and his drawn face indicated ill health. A mixture of feelings, mostly awe and dislike, came over Shala as she finally saw the much-loathed Asheno for the first time.

"So you'll see to it that no one sees the material, Guse?" Asheno asked the lawyer, who mumbled in confirmation. "Very good. It wouldn't do anybody any good." With an impatient wave, Asheno dismissed the lawyer. Guse looked quite relieved to be free of Asheno's company.

"Lonisi," Asheno's irritated voice said. "You will drive me back to the main house now."

"Very good, sir," answered Lonisi, bowing deeply and holding the passenger door open for Asheno. As he put one foot inside the sedan, Asheno suddenly stopped.

"Did you remember to tell Bari to pick up the children?" demanded Asheno.

"Yes, sir." Nodding, Asheno hacked twice, and Lonisi helped him the rest of the way. The car drove away from Shala, who waited a full minute before daring to emerge from the alley.

Rhena tended Lhurone in the sickroom. Since his bout with the gangster, an intermittent high fever, a nauseous feeling, and unusual fatigue plagued Lhurone. He was tightly wrapped in thick blankets, and Rhena made sure that a servant always replaced the ice pack on Lhurone's forehead when it became tepid. During his deliriums, Lhurone mumbled nonsense, and didn't notice when someone kept him company.

Today, the nausea disappeared, and his temperature was almost normal again, but he still required prodigious amounts of sleep. In one of his increasingly lucid moments, Lhurone told Rhena, "If this is what I'm going to experience whenever I commit violence, I'm never doing it again."

He quickly fell into a deep slumber, and Rhena put on her reading glasses and started going over the weekly housekeeping accounts. As she muttered to herself about a clumsy maid's accident with a pile of china plates, she heard the front door bang loudly, crashing into the wall. Rhena rolled her eyes and wished Asheno would open the door more quietly and civilly. Lhurone slept, oblivious. Standing, Rhena smoothed her shirt in anticipation of her employer's entrance.

The sickroom door opened. "How's my dear Lhurone today, Rhena?" asked Asheno, walking over to examine the sleeping figure. Lonisi waited silently by the doorway. Asheno brushed a lock out of Lhurone's eyes, and gave a gentle cough.

"He's doing much better," replied Rhena. "I figure he can start tutoring again on Thursday. He's still very tired, sir."

Asheno nodded weakly. Rhena took new interest in his subdued attitude, and briefly wondered if his health was finally on the downturn. A body could take constant illness for only so long. The family head turned away from the bed and walked back out, not bothering to say anything to Rhena.

"Would you like me to accompany you to your chambers, sir?" Lonisi inquired unobtrusively, almost whispering the question.

"That's all," said Asheno. Lonisi bowed his head respectfully, and entered the sickroom after Asheno had disappeared behind the door to his personal wing.

"Good afternoon, Rhena," smiled Lonisi. "How are you?"

"Fine." Rhena returned his smile. "I didn't know you were driving Asheno somewhere; so that's why Bari got the children instead."

Lonisi and Rhena sat in the armchairs next to the fire. Since Asheno had dismissed him for the afternoon, Lonisi would have no more driving to do unless Rhena sent him on an errand. "So where were you two off to, Lonisi?" asked Rhena.

"I drove Asheno to a small bookstore on Winter Street," sighed Lonisi, settling into the plush cushions. "Its owner had died very recently. And the property assessors had found some Dzuni material inside, and so Asheno needed to look at it."

"Did you see the stuff?"

"No. Asheno told me to stay with the car. But he told the lawyer to send it to the historical society, with specific instructions not to let anybody see it."

Rhena shook her head disapprovingly, and Lonisi appeared more glum than ever. Certain things never changed around here. "But here, Rhena," said Lonisi. "This may interest you. While I waited by the car, a young woman came up to me."

"Oh?"

"After a bit, I recognized her as Shoma Shehure's daughter. She came to the house once with her parents, for the New Year celebration, when she was real little."

"Who's Shehure?"

"He used to be the dog of the Dzuni. Looks just like Master Haku, but with light skin." Lonisi chuckled nostalgically. "A real rascal when he was a child, that Shehure. He caused me no end of trouble. I once drove him and the others to Karori."

"My goodness, Lonisi, you are ancient!" laughed Rhena good-naturedly, slapping her thigh.

"I've kept myself in prime shape," he answered simply. "Shehure's daughter came to the store, but she didn't know the owner had died. I told her, and when I heard Asheno coming back out, she hid in an alley. Just as her father would've done. I think it was the first time she'd ever seen Asheno."

"Didn't like the looks of him much, I gather," Rhena said dryly. With an equally dry smile, Lonisi affirmed.

"Rhena, the girl knew about the Dzuni, I'm sure of it. I couldn't talk much with her because of Asheno, but she knew. I felt it when I looked at her."

Rhena gazed into the empty fireplace. Neither person needed to guess what the other was thinking: that the kids should get away from Asheno. It was frustrating running into people who obviously wanted to find them. Rhena remembered the business card. An idea slowly formed in her mind, and she berated herself for not seeing an obvious solution. "Lonisi," she said decisively. "Are you going to drive the children to school tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"After you drop them off, would you mind delivering a letter for me? Mind, don't linger, but just drop off the letter."


	47. Chapter 49

Sorry for the delay! As promised, the new cat finally appears...(drumroll)

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, not me. Anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 49**

Shoma Huki sipped his coffee as he walked back to Karu University on a cool Friday. Only one more class, he thought, and he would be free. Huki, the former rat of the Dzuni, taught botany at the university, situated on Sonu Street in Lhasa's downtown district. Several of the ex-Dzuni worked in this area: Rin's office was nearby, as was Mhita's publishing business. Khagura served as a nurse in the hospital, Lhasa's best. Sonu Street bustled, with most of the workforce beginning to return from their lunch hours. Here, the buildings were set far from the streets, so the cafés had plenty of room to set up spacious dining areas and mini-plazas with benches. Owing to today's cooler weather, more chairs were empty than three weeks ago.

The university's main entrance neared, as Huki bunched his coat's collar up around his neck. A wintry bite cut through the air, and it had caught some underdressed students unawares. Huki smiled gently as he watched one of his students gallantly place his own coat around his shivering girlfriend's shoulders. It brought back memories of Huki's own college days, and the time he spent with Hanadzima. They'd be celebrating their 40th anniversary soon, in two months.

A familiar shock of orange hair near the young couple attracted Huki's attention. Stopping, Huki dropped his coffee, splattering it all over the sidewalk. The orange hair belonged to a man dressed in a formal white martial arts hekasho, the sort allowed only the great masters like Lhadoman. However, this person was too young to be Lhadoman. He stood near the street's edge, surveying his surroundings in a confused and clearly lost manner. A battered trunk sat on the ground next to him. A golden headband wound around his head.

Huki forced himself to proceed calmly, and glanced around, trying to see if any Shoma servants were around. Seeing none he could recognize, Huki strolled towards the boy, resisting the images of Asheno leaping from behind a bush and snatching him away before Huki reached him.

"Excuse me, young man?" Huki said. To him, his voice seemed to be wavering. The boy turned around, and amber eyes regarded Huki cautiously. Yet the youthful face appeared quite friendly and open. The boy smiled and nodded his head politely. Now Huki could see the insignia of a martial arts grand master on the front of the headband. Such a honor was extremely rare—reserved only for the few who gained expert status in the disciplines of Hoth and Gogotha. And he's one already, marveled Huki. While looking at the headband, Huki saw, for the first time, that triangular patches of white hair bordered the boy's ears and came to a point over the top of his ears. The white hair added to his already considerable air of maturity.

"Yes?" prompted the boy, still smiling pleasantly.

Huki tore his eyes from the headband, and bowed to the stranger. "I'm sorry, I was admiring your _khahu_. Congratulations on achieving it."

"Thank you," said the boy, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Not many people even know what it is." Huki noticed a slight accent, but he couldn't place it—the Lhadoman-clone drawled some of the vowels slightly.

"It's quite an honor to receive a _khahu_," said Huki softly. "Especially for one at your age." The boy only nodded silently, his earlier vulnerability returning. Huki realized that this person was actually a little shorter than he. Unlike many elderly men, Huki hadn't become stooped. He'd always possessed excellent posture, even during high school and college.

"Are you here to visit one of our martial arts schools?" asked Huki, trying to give the boy a channel to speak. Huki still wasn't absolutely certain that the new Dzuni cat stood before him.

"No," he admitted, clearly relieved. "To be honest, sir, I'm lost, and I would appreciate it if you could redirect me."

"Of course."

"I'm trying to get to this school." Huki looked at the proffered piece of paper, which had become soft from frequent handling. Someone had scrawled in barely legible script, "Karori School, Mhagenu, Lhasa."

"I must've mispronounced the name when I got in the cab at Haresuroka Airport." The boy smiled sheepishly. "Now I see I ended up at Karu instead."

"Are you going to Karori to give a martial arts demonstration?" Asking this child straight out about the Shoma family might prove exceedingly awkward.

"Well, no. But I heard that some of my relatives might be there. You see, I've had a bit of a hard time getting here."

His stomach tensing, Huki asked, "Are you trying to get to the Shoma family estate by any chance?"

"Why, yes," said the boy, his eyes round in surprise.

"Why don't you come into the university with me," suggested Huki. "I'm Shoma Huki, a member of the family. I'm one of the professors here, and I need to get inside anyway. We can get you warmed up. I'll get you into touch with the family," he fibbed to reassure the new cat. Of course he wouldn't let this boy anywhere near Asheno, if he had anything to say about it.

The boy hesitated at first, then picked one end of his trunk up and started dragging it along easily as he followed Huki. Luckily the science hall was closest to the street, and in only a few minutes the boy and his trunk rested in Huki's small office.

"What's your name?" asked Huki.

"Oh, pardon me. I'm Otougi Rendenrei."

"I'm sorry?"

The boy smiled, surprising Huki again. The old rat remembered Lhadoman as a hot-tempered and fight-obsessed young man, and the youngster now sitting in Huki's office was a serene soul. Instead of flashing with fire, the amber eyes seemed calm, almost sleepy. "You can call me Dhizero," the boy said, "it's the Hothan translation of my family name, Otougi. I'm from Eirenrang, you see."

"Gogotha! Of course!" exclaimed Huki. "I thought your accent sounded familiar. I have a close relative who lives in Eirenrang, as a matter of fact. But he doesn't speak Hothan nearly as well as you, despite having grown up in Lhasa."

"My fath…adoptive father was Hothan," said Dhizero, correcting himself. Huki noticed the stumble and frowned slightly. His instinct told him that whatever arrangements Asheno had made for Dhizero's care had not ended on good terms, but Huki stifled the impulse to ask for more details. Dhizero gulped nervously, and changed the subject quickly. "Would you call the head of the Shoma family, please?"

"Dhizero," began Huki seriously, "have you heard of the Dzuni?"

"The Dzuni? Oh, that's right, the _yuoenri_. Gogothan for Dzuni," explained Dhizero when he saw Huki's uncomprehending look. "Yes. What about it?" Despite his congenial appearance, Dhizero's eyes were wary.

"I am a former member of the Dzuni, and I know the Shoma family head," said Huki. "Shoma Asheno is not a kind man." Dhizero's smile faded. "I don't want to hand you over to a cruel person. Especially considering that you are most likely the sort of Dzuni animal Asheno despises the most. You are almost certain to get worse treatment than the other Dzuni."

"But I should go to Asheno, nonetheless," protested Dhizero. "It's my duty to join the rest of the Dzuni."

"No!" Seeing Dhizero jump back slightly, Huki lowered his voice and tried to inject urgency into it. "You don't understand, son. Asheno will see you as a monster. He'll shut you away from everybody else." It might not be true anymore, but that was the way the cat had always been treated in the past. Dhizero stared at Huki, not understanding anything the older man was saying. He took in Huki's pleading, almost desperate look, and observed Huki's knuckles turning white from gripping the armrests so hard.

Huki forced his muscles to relax, and adopted a gentler tack. "I'm sorry if I'm alarming you, Dhizero, but I'm truly concerned for your safety. Please come with me instead." He smiled. "Do I look like I'd do you any harm, me, a boring old college professor?"

Both laughed, and the tension lifted somewhat. "I'd be free to go, though, if I chose to leave?" asked Dhizero. After a long hesitation, Huki nodded reluctantly. Then he picked up the phone to ask the biology department's secretary to announce to his botany class that it was cancelled for the day.

"You…let him go?" growled Lhadoman into the phone. A strangled sound escaped from Lhoru, who was leaning against Lhadoman's broad shoulder for better eavesdropping.

"Lhadoman," said Hanadzima clearly and authoritatively, "he wanted to go voluntarily. Dhizero felt honor-bound to help the other children cope with Asheno as best as he could, and Huki had already promised to let him go if he wished."

"But, but he doesn't know what he's in for!" yelled Lhadoman. "Didn't Huki tell him what Asheno would do to him?"

"Both of us tried—"

"Did Dhizero have to go to the main estate? Why didn't you bring him here first, or hide him? Surely you could have done that!"

"Lhadoman, there was no way either of us would go against a grand master of martial arts. You should know that perfectly well." Hanadzima fought to keep her frustration with Dhizero's decision out of her voice. It would be unfair to lash out at Lhadoman.

"I'm going to hand the phone to Lhoru," Lhadoman said abruptly. Hanadzima heard his thick voice, and knew his emotions had gotten the better of him. Frankly, she'd have preferred to talk to Lhoru first anyway.

"Dz-dzima?" Her dear friend's trembling voice carried over the line after some rustling. "I'm sorry about the way Lhadoman acted."

"As Zhula and I've been telling you since you were a teenager, you don't need to apologize for other people," said Hanadzima, smiling softly. "Besides, I understand Lhadoman's feelings very well. Both Huki and I are also upset. He may have a milder personality than your husband, but he is certainly just as stubborn as Lhadoman when he puts his mind to it."

Lhoru giggled. Somber again, she asked, "Did Dhizero seem all right to you?"

Hanadzima sighed. It would be difficult to understand, because all she had to go along on were her waves and Huki's conjectures. "He appears to be healthy, at least physically. He's a grand master, as you know."

"How old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"Isn't that young for a grand master?" Lhoru said, surprised and perplexed. "I thought people couldn't become grand masters until their late twenties or thirties."

"He is obviously very gifted," said Hanadzima. "He told me his Dzuni helps him. His Dzuni is a…" Hanadzima paused, trying to recall the unfamiliar Gogothan name. "I think it's called a tisal. Oh, I know that couldn't be right."

"What's that?"

"Well, let me see. Picture a mountain cat, Lhoru." Mountain cats were small ocelot-like creatures with thick white fur that inhabited the mountainous isthmus separating Gogotha from Hoth. "A tisal is not as big, but it's larger than a house cat. They have orange fur, the same color as Lhadoman's hair. The males have white tufts of fur on their ears, and both sexes have a little ball of white fur on the tips of their tails. Dhizero says they're only found in the jungles of Mougoth—eastern Gogotha."

"Oh, my…that's different from the old cat. What about the true form?" Lhoru whispered, dreading the answer. She referred to the terrifying and hideous form of the cat that existed during the old Dzuni curse.

"Dhizero doesn't have one," answered Hanadzima quickly. She heard a sigh of relief from the other end. "Thank the gods," said Lhoru.

"It's odd, though," added Hanadzima. "Dhizero wears the blood-and-bone bracelet, like Lhadoman used to. He clearly doesn't need it, and nothing happens when he takes it off. He considers it his closest bond to the Shoma family." Hanadzima's voice dripped with irony. "Dhizero considers the bracelet quite beautiful.

"Actually, Dhizero's a little like Haku," continued Hanadzima. "He doesn't transform into a tisal, but he has a ghost tisal that accompanies him everywhere. His tisal is named…oh, dear, it's another difficult Gogothan name. Adoru, I think. It's a female. Dhizero had Adoru come out so we could see her. She was quite charming, but we weren't allowed to pet her."

"I'm glad he has somebody with him," said Lhoru, trying to picture Adoru.

"Dhizero said that since Adoru now knows where Huki and I live, he would be able to send her back to us to give us updates. Adoru is able to talk to humans since she's a demon ghost."

For once, Lhoru grasped the possibilities right away. "So he can tell how they're doing at the main estate?"

"Exactly. That was what finally persuaded Huki and me to stop convincing him to stay away from the estate." Hanadzima laughed. "We made Dhizero promise to send Adoru to us to keep us up to date."

"I hope they haven't lost hope." Lhoru remembered all too well the adolescent Lhadoman and Huki, mired in their despair and loneliness.

"From what Shala tells us," reassured Hanadzima, "resistance to Asheno is alive and well. As a matter of fact, Hotohori told her that Asheno's mostly left them alone lately." By now, all of the ex-Dzuni, their spouses, and their remaining children had learned the names of the new Dzunis, and lived for updates from Shala. Hatharu followed up on Shala's reports when he could; last Hanadzima had heard, he was discreetly making enquiries about the fate of the materials from the Winter Street bookstore. Hatharu had already concluded that it would be impossible to try to attack Asheno directly, since he wielded too much power with the police. It was up to the children, apparently, to decide how to handle Asheno and break free from his grip.

"That's wonderful." Despite the positive-sounding words, both Hanadzima and Lhoru sensed the cold undercurrent running beneath them. Being subdued before a particularly destructive fit was an all-too-familiar recurring pattern in Asheno's behavior. Lhoru asked, "Did Dhizero say anything about his Gogothan family?"

"Oh, yes," said Hanadzima, "but not very much. My waves picked up a great deal of pain and trauma whenever Huki and I mentioned the subject." Hanadzima forbore to mention that the waves were eerily similar to the ones Lhadoman gave off when he thought of his mother, who had committed suicide when he was very young. "Asheno paid a couple in Eirenrang, a Hothan man and a Gogothan woman, to raise him."

"Did you say 'paid?'" gasped Lhoru, appalled. "Asheno paid people to take Dhizero?"

"Yes," affirmed Hanadzima grimly. "He signed a contract with them, gave them a monthly check for Dhizero's keep, with the stipulation that they would return Dhizero when Asheno called him back to Lhasa."

For a long time, Lhoru remained silent. "Dzima, do you think Asheno did this for all of the children?"

"Yes, except Haku and Hatsuharu, whom he kept at the estate. It's funny Shala's never mentioned these arrangements before. Maybe they haven't told her yet. Perhaps they don't want her to know." Hanadzima scowled at the unpleasant thought. I wonder how carefully Asheno checked the adoptive parents' backgrounds, she mused.

"Only Asheno would make children part of a business transaction!" spat Lhoru furiously. "If only we could get them away from him!" As usual, since Lhoru could never maintain anger for very long, even in situations when wrathful fury was arguably fully justified, her spurt of choler dissipated swiftly. "And Dhizero said nothing else about his family?"

"No. Huki thinks his parents became upset when they found out about his connection to the Dzuni, but that's purely based upon a feeling Huki had. We don't know anything for sure."

"I don't like the sound of that at all."

"Me neither, Lhoru," sighed Hanadzima. "Me neither."

"I'd better check on Lhadoman now. His temper should've burned itself out. I don't hear the punching bag anymore."

"Bye, dear. We'll talk again very soon, and take care of yourself."

_Dhizero_

I'd never been to Hoth before today. The crisp air was refreshing, after having lived in a tropical environment all my life, but I think I'll tire of it soon enough. An old Gogothan friend once told me the air gets very dry during the winter, and painful little red cracks start appearing in your hands if you don't use moisturizer. I already miss the rich panoply of scents from the jungle. In Hoth, there is only a strange salty smell, and the sting of ice in the wind.

Eirenrang is not as bustling as Lhasa is. The crush of people at Haresuroka alone nearly suffocated me. Everything seems much less relaxed here. In the region of Mougoth it's too hot to be moving all the time. You'd hardly pass anybody walking down Eirenrang's main street in the afternoon. To avoid the sun, I did my training in the early morning and at night, after dinner. I'm not the sort who needs a lot of sleep. Here the citizens are rushing, to where, I can't say. Maybe it's a habit that developed from running from one warm place to another in winter.

Also, no one traps their house inside brick or concrete fences. As Huki drove me to the Shoma estate, I couldn't see the mansions for the tall fences hiding them. People here don't trust each other. That's the impression I get. Huki and his wife certainly don't trust Shoma Asheno. I believe them, for I've already taken good measure of what sort of man my new guardian is. Asheno destroys families, and sows hatred and fear among the people unfortunate enough to cross paths with him.

Huki pulled the car next to the curb, at an intersection. Across the street, taking up an entire block, was a vast fence made of old, ragged brown brick.

"The front entrance is in the middle," said Huki, pointing to the brown fence. "That's the Shoma estate." He sighed. "Dhizero, are you sure? This is your last chance to come with me instead."

"Yes," I responded reassuringly. "I can face Asheno."

Huki nodded resignedly. "Be careful, and remember to send Ado…Adoru back with reports." In the moonlight, his eyes were glistening with tears. "When you get to the front gate, just ring the button and wait for the intercom. When they ask who you are, say that you have business with Shoma Asheno."

"Thank you. Especially for your hospitality this afternoon." I got out, and hauled my trunk out of the back and onto the sidewalk.

"You're welcome. I'll wait until I see you go through the gate."

With that, I started walking towards the entrance. The gate was an old-fashioned sort, wrought iron set onto heavy, solid wooden doors, and flanked by two thick brick columns. An elegant plaque, carved with ornate flowers above the name "Shoma," decorated the top half of each column. The intercom was under the right plaque, and I pressed the button.

"Adour," I whispered in Gogothan, "you'd better come out. It'll look better if they see you from the start. I don't want you to surprise them." The tsial immediately obeyed me, and rubbed against my leg comfortingly. My sword, hidden under my robe on my right side, felt reassuringly real. It was against the law in both Gogotha and Hoth for anyone except people with permits and _khahu_ bearers to carry a sword. I hoped no one would misunderstand here. Swords were far less common and more restricted in Hoth than Gogotha, where they could be useful in cutting back jungle growth.

"I can pretend to be your exotic Gogothan pet, and impress everybody with my beautiful fur," she said.

"That's right," I chuckled. The intercom buzzed, and I turned my attention back to it.

"Who's there?" asked a polite, genteel male voice.

After a moment, I thought it wiser to give my Gogothan name. "Otougi Rendenrei. I arrived from Eirenrang today, and I have an appointment with Shoma Asheno."

"Wait a minute, please, sir."

"I bet you anything he didn't catch your name at all," whispered Adour. "He sounded thoroughly Hothan to me."

"Sir?" The man's voice crackled.

"Yes?"

"The master has awaited your arrival for a long time. We shall open the gates now, sir." The gates quivered and creaked faintly, and began to open. The creaking added to my increasing nervousness, and what I saw behind the doors only worsened the feeling. An immensely long driveway stretched into the darkness, and after a minute, my eyes made out the silhouette of an enormous mansion at the driveway's end. Along the driveway, were scores of smaller buildings.

I stepped inside the fence, dragging my trunk with one hand, looking all around me in the darkness. Eerie twisted forms bordered the driveway on both sides, and eventually I realized they were trees.

"I recognize those trees." Adour's awed words floated to my ears. "You've truly come home now, Dhizero, no matter how little it feels like it."

"What kind of trees are they?"

"The holy trees of the Dzuni. It's been over five hundred years since they last bloomed. They're called the flame trees of Thika." For a few seconds, we walked in silence. "I wonder if Hothans even remember what these trees are anymore?" Adour wondered. "Dhizero, I'm sure you'll see these trees bloom before very long. They're still alive, I can tell."

"You'll have to tell me more about the flame trees sometime, Adour," I said absentmindedly, as we came to a second brick fence, as tall and imposing as the outer one. I couldn't see any intercom, and pondered what to do next.

A flap opened in one of the doors, and a lantern shone next to an elderly face. "Greetings, young man. I'll open the gate directly." The hinges on this set were rustier, and the gates gave a loud, protesting moan as the manservant heaved them open. Adour winced at the grating sound. "This way, please," said the droopy-faced man, smiling gently as he gestured towards the gigantic mansion. "That is the main house, where you'll be living now, with the others. Please, allow me to dispose of the trunk for you."

"It's no trouble, thank you," I said, waving my hand. The elderly man smiled again and walked to the front door, and I followed with my trunk.

"My name is Lonisi, sir," said the man, his hand on the curved door handle. "I am the head chauffeur here, and have served the Shomas for a long time. I know about the Dzuni." He winked at me. "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

Already getting used to the question, I answered, "Just call me Dhizero."

"Ah, a very fitting name for a grand master," Lonisi said approvingly. He pressed the handle, and opened both doors to allow my trunk through. The main hallway was fully lit, and it took my eyes time to adjust to the sudden brightness. Hothan houses were quite different from Gogothan houses, I realized. In Eirenrang, people opened their windows as much as possible, and the furnishings were always airy, spare and comfortable. The windows in the Shoma house, by contrast, were covered by massive drapes, and every piece of décor looked heavy enough to smother a medium-sized child. Even the air felt weightier to me.

"Is that your cat, Dhizero?" asked Lonisi, inclining his head down to Adour, whose paws had sunk out of view in the deep carpeting. "Yes, her name is Adour."

"She's quite lovely." Adour meowed appreciatively.

"Who's this now, Lonisi?" A plump woman dressed in a cleaning frock came out of a doorway to my right, with two burly men tagging along behind her. "Oh, is this the last Dzuni?" she whispered excitedly.

"I am," I said, bowing slightly. I'd quickly learned this custom from Huki. We did no such thing in Gogotha. "My name is Otougi Rendenrei, but call me Dhizero. And this is my pet cat Adour. We just came to Hoth today."

"Wonderful!" beamed the woman. "I'm Rhena, I look after you lot. This is Khezuke and Hatsumi, two of your fellows." Gripping me in a bear hug, she whispered hurriedly, "Don't talk about the Dzuni in public. Most of the servants don't know."

"Hi, so you've come at last, eh?" said Hatsumi.

"Need help with your trunk?" asked Khezuke. I noticed the scars on his face for the first time. They weren't fresh—they weren't a vivid enough purple.

"Asheno requested that I show Dhizero into his chambers right away," said Lonisi. "We shall take your trunk upstairs for you, Dhizero, while you meet with Asheno."

"Oh, no," groaned Rhena, rolling her eyes. "Dhizero, whatever Asheno says to you, don't do anything to provoke him. He has a short fuse, you see."

"He's been pretty calm lately," said Khezuke optimistically.

"Asheno never is for long," rebutted Rhena ominously. "Well, Dhizero, keep it short as you can, okay, dear?"

"Come this way," said Lonisi, veering towards the leftmost door. "Walk to the end of the chamber, and bow deeply when you see him," he whispered as he pushed the door open. Adour remained by my side.

This was by far the most oppressive room of all. Little light penetrated into the room, aside from a moonbeam filtering through the bay windows. Staleness and sickness permeated the air. I strangled a cough in my throat as I advanced slowly towards a chaise. A silhouette sat up in the chaise, and instinctively I stopped and bowed from my waist. I didn't speak.

"You are all here, now." The voice sounded surprisingly weary for someone whom I'd come to expect a severe tongue-lashing from, at the very least. I couldn't see his face. "Do you insist on using your Gogothan name? I find them quite unpronounceable," Asheno said after a long silence. A silence in which I sensed him looking over me.

"Please, call me Dhizero instead," I responded respectfully, pulling my head erect again.

"You speak Hothan very well. Good." A blanket rustled. "The thing is yours, I suppose?"

"What thing, sire?"

"The mangy creature next to you."

Swallowing my offended rejoinder, I said, "Allow me to introduce my Dzuni familiar, Adour. She has been with me my entire life."

"Not another one of those damn ghosts," muttered Asheno. "She's a cat, isn't she? Maybe she and the wolf will finish each other off." I felt Adour's body tense against my leg. "And do you have the bracelet? The red and white one?"

"Yes."

"Well? Does anything happen when you take it off?"

"No, sire."

"Another odd one." Asheno sighed. "You should've arrived sooner, Dhizero. Your adoptive mother accepted you for money. She wasn't worth wasting all that time worrying over in Gogotha. Your delay has inconvenienced everyone, and you'll have to work three times as hard as the others to catch up in school."

"That's not true," I said, bile rising in my throat.

"What's not true?" Asheno repeated, surprised. He became cunning. "Ah, I see. Your 'mama' was stupid enough to get attached to you. Hmm. I should've been more careful." Through discipline from countless hours of training, I managed to choke the angry words in my throat. I did not want Asheno to watch me lose control. "Dhizero, we shall speak again when I have more energy. Leave me now. Lonisi and Rhena should be preparing a room for you now."


	48. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I'm sure that you've all read this five gazillion times by now, but here it is: FB does not belong to me, nor does anything else that you recognize.

**Chapter 50**

Shehure and Mahalina sipped their hot chocolates in Huki and Hanadzima's tidy living room. Mahalina enviously eyed the perfect condition of the upholstery. Outside the single window, the tree branches swayed gently in the wind. The temperature had dropped quickly overnight, signaling the advent of a harsh winter. A rough winter always increased the chances of a harithe occurring. Mahalina made a mental note to herself to check the soundness of the walls and windows in the house in the next few days. It had been, what, ten or eleven years since the last harithe? They were definitely due for one sometime soon.

Huki and Hanadzima sat huddled closely on the sofa opposite Shehure and Mahalina. Shehure had brought them a copy of a letter surreptitiously left on Rin's doorstep a few days ago. The new Dzunis' old nursemaid, Rhena, had laboriously written a long letter, at great personal risk to herself, revealing all she knew about the children and Asheno. Upon first reading the lengthy litany of abuses, horrors, and weird incidents, Shehure had looked just as shocked and incredulous as Huki and Hanadzima now did. Of course, Shala passed on what she learned from the kids, but none of the older generation had really accepted Shala's accounts until the letter. There was a marked difference between an informant with second-hand stories, and a witness who'd seen and heard everything first hand.

"My gods," breathed Hanadzima slowly, as the hands holding the letter sank into her lap. Huki looked up, amazed, at Shehure and Mahalina.

"What are we going to do?" asked Huki, shaking his head.

Rarely did Shehure lack answers for these sorts of questions, but this time he merely shrugged his shoulders. "Hatharu's trying to see if he can access that collection Asheno sent to the historical society. Discreetly, of course. Other than that, I don't know what else we can do."

"Couldn't one of us confront Asheno?" Hanadzima asked, folding the paper.

"Well…" Shehure's voice trailed off. He'd turned that pernicious question over in mind countless times.

Mahalina shook her head vigorously. "That's not a good idea. Asheno's still the head of the family. If one of us suddenly showed up at the main estate, he might suspect the children for telling us and hurt them. Or Rhena might get hurt, and she's the only one who protects the children there."

"I suppose you're right, but still," sighed Huki. "I hope that devil dies soon."

"Or maybe one of the children will murder him," chuckled Shehure half-jokingly.

"Haku's ghost wolf is more than capable of ripping Asheno apart."

"How did Asheno manage to keep the servants' deaths quiet? Especially since they died in such a violent way?" marveled Hanadzima, still perusing the letter.

"Oh, Asheno can shut up people, all right," said Huki sardonically. "Plenty of money to bribe the next of kin and the police. Our family's been doing this for a long time, remember, dear." Patting his wife on the shoulder, Huki stood up and began picking up empty mugs. "Yes, Mahalina, I suppose you're right; there aren't many options. And Shehure's right—quite possibly the easiest way for the kids to escape is for them to kill Asheno."

Hanadzima remained thoughtful. Frowning, she said, "If we were able to take in the children, could we handle their Dzuni spirits?"

"I don't see why we couldn't," said Shehure. "The spirits may be a bit wilder and more homicidal than we're accustomed to, but otherwise, the kids clearly want to live normal lives. I think even the phantom wolf might calm down once it gets away from Asheno."

"Maybe," acceded Hanadzima doubtfully. Privately, the letter gave her the sense that the ghost wolf was not completely under anybody's control, even Haku's. Since graduating from high school, Hanadzima her operated her own business as a spiritual medium. Years of listening to her customers' confidences taught her there was still a supernatural presence in Hoth to be reckoned with. Of course, training priests for such dealings had ended long before Hanadzima's time. She had no formal training, but her waves were able to detect at least the presence of spirits. Hanadzima felt certain, that if she were to even go near the Shoma estate, she could detect the new Dzuni spirits.

The company fell silent. Gushing water from the kitchen meant that Huki was rinsing out the mugs. "I'm worried about the children's mental states," continued Hanadzima. "They are obviously quite damaged, most of them." Especially Ashiri, she thought sadly, already paying marked attention to the new rat.

"Hardly surprising," murmured Shehure. The old twinge of guilt tugged at him again. Perhaps, if he hadn't tried so hard to break the damn curse, none of this would've happened. Maybe Hararu and the others wouldn't have disappeared.

A scraping sound, followed by a metallic crash and a ringing sound, burst from the bedroom. Everybody jumped, Hanadzima leapt to her feet, and Huki came running from the kitchen. Shehure could hear the quick and almost silent patter of paws.

"It sounds like a cat," he said.

"A cat?" Hanadzima rushed to the bedroom door. "Adoru?" she called. "Adoru? Are you here?" She quieted as a hissing sound responded. Huki looked questioningly at her, and she shook her head warningly. Hanadzima carefully edged against the wall as an extremely edgy tsial crawled by her. Adour's fur stood on end, and her ears were pressed absolutely flat against her head. She kept glancing back into the bedroom, as if searching for a pursuer. Adour tiptoed alongside the wall, and by the time she had made it into the living room, she'd relaxed considerably. Shehure and Mahalina stared at the tsial unabashedly; it was the first time either had seen a living one.

"Is this Dhizero's cat?" whispered Mahalina. Huki mutely nodded. Hanadzima returned to the living room.

"Adoru?" spoke Hanadzima softly. "Are you all right?" The tsial started, then turned to look at her.

"I barely escaped," said Adour quietly, as though fearful of being overheard. Her eyes darted from side to side. "I hadn't realized the same ghost wolf was still around. We are old enemies, and she's gone crazy. She nearly killed me. She was chasing me, and I ran here. But I seem to have thrown her off track."

"The ghost wolf wanted to kill you?" asked Shehure. Adour jerked into crouching position at his voice.

"That is Shoma Shehure," said Hanadzima hastily. "He used to be the Dzuni Dog."

"Yes, Dzin-E tried to kill me," repeated Adour. Seeing the confused looks on the humans' faces, Adour clarified, "The ghost wolf's real name."

"Come and sit with us," offered Hanadzima, resuming her seat on the sofa. Adour clambered into the armchair next to Mahalina. "And that's Shehure's wife, Mahalina."

Adour paid little attention as she sat stiffly.

"I thought the ghost wolf was male?" inquired Mahalina.

"Shh!" hissed Adour urgently. "If we talk about her, we might attract her attention if she's still after me." Everyone tensed visibly, and silence reigned for the next several minutes.

Eventually Adour stood on all fours and stretched. "Well, we're safe," she announced, and curled back into sitting position. Her ears remained tellingly alert. "I think so, anyway."

"Does Dhizero know what happened?" asked Huki.

"No. I'll have to go back eventually, but I need to wait for a while. We still shouldn't talk about the wolf, just in case," added Adour. "So you're the old dog, Shehure? I remember you. Lhadoman punched you a lot."

"Anyone could tell you used to possess Lhadoman," chuckled Shehure. "Your fur and his hair are the exact same shade."

"Did he marry that nice girl, Lhoru?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. I'm glad that things worked out so well for him. I despaired of him before she came along," said Adour confidentially. "Some of the cursed cats did so poorly. What a horrible time that was. Being squished into a tiny bead made of bone or blood is no fun. It stunk terribly, particularly the blood. The possessing spirits under the old curse were contained inside those beads."

"Yes, I heard your voices coming from the beads," said Hanadzima. "They stopped after the curse ended. Were the beads the vessel for the curse?"

"Truth be told, I have no idea how the curse worked," admitted Adour. "It happened very suddenly."

"Where did you go when the curse ended?"

"Back to the spirit world, where we came from originally."

"What spirit world?" asked Huki.

"There are three worlds that exist on different planes. One is the human world, this one. Another is the spirit world, where the demons, which would be us Dzuni spirits, and lesser spirits live. I won't explain the third world, it's too complicated."

"So all of the Dzuni demons are now here?" Shehure asked.

"No. The curse put a great strain on us, and our world is a shambles," explained Adour. "It's dangerous to travel back and forth. Besides, most of the Dzuni don't need their demons to exercise their powers…damn!" Adour jumped off the chair, panicked, and faded into the air.

"Adoru!" exclaimed Hanadzima. A bone-jangling growl ripped through the air the next moment, causing the couples to clutch each other in fright. The deep growl echoed for several seconds before finally dying. Mahalina's heart beat painfully against her sternum. She knew she'd have nightmares about that noise.

"So that was the ghost wolf," said Shehure, awed.

"It's a miracle anybody's still alive at that house," gasped Hanadzima, her mouth dry. "I've never sensed a more bloodthirsty and deranged aura."

At midnight, Haku returned to his room after spending the afternoon searching the estate for Dhizero's lost tsial. Asheno didn't permit anybody to look in the outer portion, even when Dhizero pleaded. The Shomas living in the outer portion did not know any of the kids other than Hatsuharu and Haku, and Asheno wanted to avoid any suspicion. Keeping the Dzuni concealed from the larger world remained a foremost priority even in illness for Asheno.

Haku scanned his rumpled bed, and decided that he wasn't tired enough to fall asleep yet. Sitting at his desk, he found a sketchpad with a few empty pages left. Using an ebony pencil, he began sketching any image that entered his mind—the flame tree flowers, tapestry designs he'd seen in Lhose, the mountains, Lhadoman's true form. When he drew a deeply worried Lhadoman calling for Adour, he knew he had to try

summoning Faran-Zhuku again.

"Faran-Zhuku?" he called mentally. "Are you there? Come back to me!" As the search dragged on, and Haku sensed nothing of Faran-Zhuku's presence, he had an inkling of what had really happened to Adour. The ghost wolf was still mad, after all. The feeling only grew more ominous over the hours, as both Faran-Zhuku and Adour remained absent. Laren, Rhosu's pet bunny, spoke to Haku privately and told him that the two demons had a long-standing feud. As his pencil wandered over the pages, Haku couldn't dodge imagining Adour's mangled body, surrounded by a gaping crowd, in the middle of a street.

"Faran-Zhuku?" This time he felt a faint stir. "Come here." The cold sensation strengthened, and the ghost collapsed onto his bed, panting heavily. Faran-Zhuku lay on her front paws heavily, and made no move.

Haku said nothing, but gazed steadily at his demon. When her breathing became less erratic, Faran-Zhuku raised her head and said, **"She still alive. Fast as always."**

Grunting noncommittally, Haku turned back to his sketching. He didn't know whether discussing Adour further would re-trigger Faran-Zhuku's predatory desires, so he kept his peace. "I'm glad you seem to be doing better, Faran-Zhuku."

**"Dzin-E,"** corrected the wolf.

"What?"

**"My real name. Dzin-E."** The ghost licked a bloody scratch on her foreleg. **"And I female, which you obviously not tell before."**

Haku smiled wryly. The return of the ghost's blunt and mildly insulting tone was welcome to his ears. "So why didn't you tell me earlier?"

**"Other things more important,"** said Dzin-E dismissively.

"It's a fitting name," reflected Haku. "Combining the past tense with the future tense."

**"You the only one who like it,"** retorted Dzin-E.

"Do I need to be concerned that you'll develop a sexual interest in me?" Haku asked flippantly.

**"No. But you have interest in monkey girl."** The wolf sneered. **"You not get far when Asheno around."**

"I don't like Ashitare!" said Haku hastily, abandoning his drawing. His cheeks burned. "We're just friends."

**" 'Just friends,'"** mocked Dzin-E. **"Use your ears better, moron."** She gestured with her head behind Haku. **"She was outside the door. Probably heard everything."** Haku stared at the wolf, aghast. **"I say wait until tomorrow to apologize. You all need sleep first. You will have do all talking, anyway. She too wimpy."**

"No, she isn't." Haku glared furiously at Dzin-E. He didn't understand why he felt so angry at himself.

**"Like I say, hide it from Asheno." **

"I can't let something develop with Ashitare," said Haku despairingly, covering his eyes. "It's too dangerous, and Asheno can pick on her too easily."

**"Well, she a wimp,"** concluded Dzin-E.

"Don't say that again," growled Haku. "Shit, what am I saying?"

Dzin-E allowed Haku to brood for a few minutes before speaking again. **"I want ask you something." **

"What?"

**"Think very careful about what I ask. Is not something handled lightly."** The wolf's unusually grave tone captured Haku's full attention. **"Do you want know what happen to your parents, and other kids' parents?"**

"Well, of course."

**"Idiot! Think first,"** urged Dzin-E.

"You already told me Khosure's mother was dead, a long time ago."

**"Right. Think what it might mean. Remember I sense your thoughts. I know you think about possibilities. What happened is not nice thing to see."** By the end of that statement, Haku had fully grasped Dzin-E's implied meaning. So, Dzin-E would probably confirm his worst fears.

"Did Asheno kill them all?" he whispered.

Dzin-E stayed silent. **"I let you think first, decide if you really want know."** Then she disappeared into the air.

Rhena perused the stock in the refrigerators and the cabinets, mulling over the next morning's breakfast. Satisfied, she decided it was well past her bedtime. Her old bones were beginning to have trouble keeping up with the children's lives. Hopefully Dhizero's lovely cat would show up tomorrow.

The kitchen's main door opened suddenly. "Hi, Rhena," said Khosure.

"Khosure, you ought to be in bed," scolded Rhena.

"I'll go to sleep, I promise." Khosure gave her his most charming smile. "I just got really hungry for a midnight snack."

"All right, but only a small one, mind," answered Rhena hesitantly. She pressed an apple into his hand. Khosure's increasingly cavernous appetite worried her. The change worsened since last week, when his eyes flared up in school. He now ate larger portions at dinner than even Hatsuharu, who normally ate three times as much as Khosure.

Rhena and Khosure moved out of the kitchen and into the sickroom. They claimed a chair for themselves. Disturbed, Rhena noticed that Khosure had already chewed the apple to its core. He also had a flannel blanket wrapped firmly around himself.

"Is it really so cool in here, dear?" That was another out-of-the-ordinary behavior Khosure had given to displaying lately. He'd always been sensitive to the cold, true, but the servants religiously maintained warm temperatures in the house for Asheno. Indeed, Rhena thought it too warm at the present moment, and she was certain she didn't have a

fever.

"Yes, I can't take it," complained Khosure, gnawing at the skeletal core. "Do you think you could ask someone to raise the thermostat?"

"Just put on a sweater, and I'm sure it'll make all the difference." Rhena forced a smile, while scrutinizing Khosure's face closely. Yes, her eyes hadn't deceived her. His cheekbones were more prominent now, and his hair seemed slightly less lustrous. The fingers holding the demolished core looked strangely thinner than she remembered. He'd always had slender fingers, but the joints never stood out so clearly as they did now. Considering the amount of food he now consumed, Khosure should be gaining weight, not losing it. "Do you feel ill, Khosure?"

"No, I just feel cold and hungry. Could I have some more food?"

Rhena gulped uneasily. "Try to wait until breakfast tomorrow, darling. Get some sleep, and I'll get the doctor to look at you tomorrow morning."


	49. Chapter 51

Only four more chapters left after this! (Dramatic music plays)

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 51**

"Ma'am, please wake up!"

The desperate yell jerked Rhena out of a deep slumber. She promptly banged against the headboard.

Someone banged on the door. "Ma'am!" Rubbing her throbbing head, Rhena recognized the voice as belonging to one of her senior cooking assistants, Halina. She should've been making breakfast right now—something was wrong.

"What is it, Halina?" More alert now, Rhena jumped out of bed and wrapped her robe securely.

"Someone broke into the kitchen!"

Afterwards, Rhena was positive she'd never run so quickly in her life. Huffing, she leaned against the kitchen door's frame, and took in the full extent of the disaster. The sun, already beginning to resume its winter pattern, hadn't risen yet. The ceiling lights illuminated scores of empty food bags that had been viciously ripped open, and countless fruit cores lay scattered heedlessly on the floor and countertops. A refrigerator door hung open, revealing almost empty shelves. Plastic pop bottles and milk cartons sat on their sides, drained of each drop. Already a sour smell from the milk tinged the air. A ragged trail of leftovers wended its way towards the door to the basement storage areas.

"Get Lonisi now," said Rhena grimly to Halina.

"Shall I call the police?"

"No!" Rhena's adamance caught Halina off guard, and she looked at her supervisor with wide, scared eyes. Then she left to find Lonisi. Rhena looked at the mess again, and sighed. She knew who was responsible, and she wanted to confront Khosure with another person familiar with the Dzuni.

"Rhena? What's going on?" Lonisi's voice asked worriedly. Halina trailed behind him. Lonisi was already fully awake, and his shabby robe ill concealed a worn linen nightshirt.

"Halina, stand outside the door and make sure no one enters the kitchens," ordered Rhena, quickly brushing Lonisi inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

"My gods!" declared Lonisi, his tragic face transforming into a shocked look.

"I think it's Khosure," said Rhena quietly, stepping over the discarded food. "He came here last night, trying to get me to give him more food."

Rhena had kept Lonisi up to date on Khosure's condition. "But just last night?" asked Lonisi incredulously. "Could he really have sunken that fast? No human could eat this much."

"It must be his Dzuni." Rhena glanced down the basement stairs, and saw that the lights had already been switched on. At the bottom, she could just see the beginnings of a fresh trail of litter. She would have to do emergency shopping to make up for the loss of food, but Khosure occupied all her thoughts right now.

By tacit agreement, Lonisi went ahead of Rhena. They followed the trail, which appeared to lead to the largest storeroom. The cold stone floors stung their bare feet as they apprehensively rounded the last corner to the main storeroom. Suddenly Lonisi gasped and lurched backwards, and Rhena collided with his backside.

Rhena looked around his back, and her heart stopped as she saw the grotesque sight. Fleetingly, she thought that Khosure had been murdered. A twisted pile of pale flesh lay sprawled across the hallway, next to the door's splintered remains. Silver hair spread around one end of the pile. Once they recovered their wits, Lonisi and Rhena tiptoed forward for a closer look at the mangled flesh.

Upon closer visual inspection, the flesh appeared very dry, and it had cracked in several places. Rhena stepped in a sticky, yellowish pus-like residue, which surrounded the pile. "Careful, watch for the wood splinters," warned Lonisi in a soft voice as Rhena pulled her foot back in disgust.

"He shed his skin, just like a snake," observed Lonisi, nodding. "He must've transformed."

"Khosure? Are you around here somewhere?" called Rhena tentatively. After hearing no reply, she tried again in a stronger voice. "It's just us, Rhena and Lonisi. We won't hurt you." Rhena and Lonisi looked carefully into the storeroom, which was completely dark. Rows of wide shelves stood in a neat, even manner across the room's breadth. Finally, after several more calls, a rustle betrayed Khosure's whereabouts.

"There, in the very back," said Lonisi. Rhena could barely make out the contours of an enormous snake. Its skin was the same white coloring as Khosure's skin, which made it easier to see in the darkness.

"Khosure? It's all right, dear, you've just transformed, that's all," reassured Rhena, relieved now that they'd actually found him. The first tingles of alarm surfaced as the snake's size sank in. He must be at least as long as the storeroom, thought Rhena. The storeroom stretched for a good 50 feet into the basement's subterranean recesses.

"Don't come any closer! I don't want to hurt you!" Khosure's sibilant accent almost overwhelmed his speech now. Rhena and Lonisi had to strain to understand his words.

"We're just at the doorway, Khosure, sir," said Lonisi. "You're not injured, are you?"

"No. But don't come here. I might kill you by accident."

"We'll stay here for now," said Lonisi.

"Can you turn back into a human?" asked Rhena. "It's too cool for you to stay here very long."

"How do I become human again?" The embarrassed hissing caused Rhena and Lonisi to exchange amused grins.

"If I may be permitted to suggest something, sir," said Lonisi, "why don't you take a deep breath and concentrate on what your human form looked like? That's the best I can think of."

The adults fell silent. They heard a soft grunt from Khosure, and the serpentine body twitched once. Instead of a thick column of skin and muscles, a pair of legs lay in its place.

"Ooh! Cold!" yelled Khosure, getting off the floor quickly. He leapt to where his caretakers waited.

"My goodness, that transformation stretched you out quite a bit," exclaimed Rhena. "I'll have to get you a whole new wardrobe." Khosure stood at least six feet and a half now, perhaps an inch or two taller—a vast change from before, when Khosure had only three inches' advantage over Rhena. Lonisi discreetly handed Khosure his robe, to cover his nakedness. A thin film of smelly slime still covered most of his body.

"Ecch! I've got to take a bath!" Khosure grimaced at a rivulet of pus dripping from his hand.

"How do you feel?" asked Rhena.

"A little cold. And sleepy."

"But not hungry or thirsty?"

"No. Actually, I'm really full from all the food I ate. How much did I eat?" he added, his eyelids drooping.

"Thank the heavens!" declared Rhena. "Never mind the food. Come along, Kho, we must get you cleaned up."

Two hours later, Rhena served a scraped-together breakfast from the contents of some high cabinets that Khosure luckily missed in his feeding frenzy. Rhena snatched a few of Hatsuharu's worn hekashos, but even so, they only came to Khosure's knees. It would be a job finding clothes big enough for him.

Lonisi immediately gathered the sloughed-off flesh and mopped up the pus himself. He took the mess to a far corner of the garden, and burnt it. Assigning any other servant to the job would've caused too much talk. Once that was done, Rhena sent an army of servants to tackle the garbage. Fortunately, the storage room door was the only thing that required any substantial repair.

Khosure remained upstairs, enjoying the sudden vault into the spotlight. Hotohori's attention particularly gladdened him. He fully woke again, when his body became warmer. The cool conditions in the basement had made his body start going into hibernation. Right now, he relayed the tale of his transformations, gesturing dramatically and adding a few embellishments.

Around midday, Lonisi, immaculately attired in his uniform and wearing his normal dolorous expression, came to Rhena. "Shall I try to report to Asheno?"

"You can try," replied Rhena cautiously. "But he isn't none too well today, I hear. Most likely he'll throw his plate at you, then I'll have to replace it." She continued muttering in the same bitter vein. Rhena had just finished compiling her emergency shopping list, and its length soured her mood.

Rhena's prediction proved accurate. Lonisi was inside the family head's chambers for no longer than a minute, when he left pursued by loud, incoherent cursing. Prudently, Lonisi decided the news about Khosure could wait until the next day, and went to the garages to prepare the sedan for a day of heavy shopping.

Asheno crashed back against the cushions, having run out of steam for cursing. His energy during fits always drained more quickly when he was ill. Beads of sweat spotted his pallid face, still drawn into a grotesque grimace from his anger. Asheno's shortness of breath eased, and he closed his jaw. His tight muscles slackened somewhat, but not fully. He turned his eyes upwards.

This was one of those fevers when he slipped in and out of lucidity, often at an alarming pace. The servants had learned to enter his chambers silently and catlike, do their business, and then quickly exit. Drawing his attention during such a fever usually resulted in injury for the unlucky person. Today, Asheno had strength only for cursing, not throwing objects, so Lonisi had been exceptionally fortunate.

His thoughts somewhat ordered now, Asheno pondered that very fact, and finally admitted to himself what he'd been dreading for months. His body was declining, for good. Staring at the bland ceiling, Asheno knew there was no physical evidence for his conclusion. He got sick as often as he'd always done. This fever was no worse than countless others he'd had. There had been other times when he wasn't strong enough to hurl silverware at the nearest person.

No, he knew he was dying, based on a deeply rooted feeling. Asheno's chest and shoulders started shaking, and a mirthless laugh escaped. How funny he should get upset now, when death had been haunting him since the day of his birth! He'd lived for sixty-two miserable years.

The laughter changed into sobbing, as Asheno contemplated his coming death. The heavens were certainly having a good laugh at his expense. He visualized the end of his life—attended only by the doctor, and the requisite nurses, and they'd be there only through compulsion. Oh, yes, he knew perfectly well none of those ungrateful children would attend his bedside, paying a last homage to their guardian and family head. Why should they? Their demonic Dzuni spirits ensured that they did not have to obey him. He would die alone.

His head spun, and when his vision cleared, Asheno saw Shehure standing next to his chaise. The person Asheno had loved the most, even more than Huki, and the one whom he hated the most now. Shehure and all his brood, including his grandson, had all proved insidiously vexing. Absolutely heartless people to rob their god of his rightful death and make him live on and on.

In turn, Asheno cursed each Dzuni he had known, beginning with Shehure, and ending with Haku. How dare they plot behind his back, deny him the reverence that was his due! How dare they run away and take refuge in others? Asheno remembered with relish the night he punished Rin for her insolence in seeing Haru behind his back. He'd never forgotten the petrified look on her face as she tumbled backwards over the basement stairs. Yes, he was in fine form then.

But these Dzuni! Haku, Hatsuharu, and all the rest, flouted him completely, as though he were an annoying child! Even the weak ones, like Khosure and Ashitare, took refuge behind their defenders, so Asheno couldn't overpower them like he did the young Huki. And Dhizero cared only about his flea-ridden cat. Asheno took a malicious respite in the cat having disappeared.

The young Dzuni were even bold enough to develop relationships when they thought he wasn't looking. Oh, he'd noticed that waifish Shuro making eyes at Hatsuharu, who seemed to have fallen for her utterly, the fool. Fools, both of them. And now it looked as though Ashitare liked Haku. The little idiot stutterer was so transparent—turning tomato red every time they made eye contact, and actually trying to speak with him. In Asheno's opinion, less time would be wasted if she kept her mouth shut.

Unbidden, the memory of his last encounter with Haku's father lurched into Asheno's mind. "You'll never have full control of us! You're dreaming, you madman!" Madman, madman, the word echoed relentlessly in every crevice of his brain. In the memory, several attendants restrained the man, carrying him out the door. He kept screaming invectives at Asheno, who smirked at him triumphantly. Asheno knew Hararu had used several curses, some very creative, but "madman" was the only one he heard now. "What a pity they all have to be so stubborn," Asheno remarked vaguely to the ceiling, after he remembered the terrible night of the harithe eleven years ago.

The delirium sank into oblivion, like a heavy log into quicksand. Asheno closed his eyes, to rest, but he did not fall asleep. Instead, he was thinking. He mulled over the certainty of his death again. If his body really wasn't any worse than before, he might've had a premonition. Try as Asheno might, racking his memory, he failed to conjure up any memories of a vision, a dream, or a prescient voice. He came to the same conclusion: a gut feeling.

"Perhaps, I am really mad," murmured Asheno meditatively, amused. "In that case, I should live up to it as best as I can while I'm still alive. When I feel better…" Asheno left the rest of his musings unspoken, and presently fell into a heavy sleep. No premonitions disturbed him.

"I wonder if this means the rest of us will transform at some point?" Shidora asked the three boys playing hearts with her. Hatsumi grimaced as Khezuke passed him a hand containing the Queen of Spades.

"Hatsumi, you must learn how to keep a poker face," chastised Haku, waggling a finger at him. "I'm sure I can tell which card you just got."

"You use Faran-Zhuku to spy on our hands, don't you?" Hatsumi said desultorily.

"No, only when I play with Hatsuharu." Haku remained the only one who called the ghost wolf by her true name, and in private. It was a special bond he didn't feel like sharing quite yet with the other Dzunis. "You're a poor loser, Hatsumi." The ram only stuck his tongue out at Haku.

"I don't know, Shidora," said Khezuke in response to the tiger's earlier question. Khezuke silently observed Hatsumi's tense face, and hoped a change of subject would distract him. "The transformations seem pretty random to me. What do you think, Haku?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm an expert on these matters?" grumbled Haku. "I told you before, Faran-Zhuku doesn't tell me these sorts of things."

"Hm, I don't think the transformations are so random," said Hatsumi, frowning over his cards. "After all, our spirits waited 15, 16 years before getting started, didn't they?"

Tossing Shidora two cards, Haku nodded his assent. He added ruefully, "When I saw Dz…Faran-Zhuku for the first time and I asked it why it hadn't appeared before, Faran-Zhuku just asked me if I'd trust a five-year-old with a giant vicious wolf."

"Good point," chuckled Khezuke.

"Y'know," piped up Shidora, "the first time I transformed into a tiger, I was too upset to notice it much. Well, actually, the change made me even more upset than before. But I tried it again in the garden last week, when no one was around, and it felt pretty cool. I'm a lot stronger, and I can run so quickly! The only problem is that there's not much use for turning into a tiger."

"Obviously times have changed a lot since this animal thing first started in the Shoma family," said Hatsumi. "What use is there for Dzunis in general Hothan society? That's it, I'm out. My cards are hopeless," he groaned, throwing his hand onto the table.

"I've got all hearts, too," said Shidora, shrugging cheerfully and following suit. Khezuke won the game, edging Haku out by one heart. Shidora continued, "Khezuke, Hatsumi, I wonder if you'll be next?"

"Next for what?" asked Hatsumi.

"Next to transform, of course, silly!"

"Dunno. I haven't felt any funny tingles, an urge to eat all the time, or burning lungs," responded Hatsumi sarcastically.

"I hope I don't," Khezuke said softly. "These transformations are very destructive."

"Only the first time, because we don't know what's coming," corrected Haku. "It's been a long time since Faran-Zhuku murdered anybody. Some of us might never transform. Those of us with demons, for example, haven't transformed."

The speculation continued until after the sun had set. Haku excused himself, and the remaining three decided to play a few rounds of poker until dinner. Walking towards the girls' hallway, Haku's stomach grew tighter. All day long, Ashitare studiously avoided him, which meant she'd overheard his hasty "We're just friends" comment. Normally she tried to spend as much time with either Haku or Rhosu, since they were the most patient with her stuttering.

Haku arrived at the door to the room Shuro and Ashitare shared. Praying that Shuro was out and Ashitare in, Haku knocked gently. "W-who is it?" called Ashitare.

"Hi, Tare, it's me." Hearing no response, Haku asked, "Can I talk to you? Please?" His cheeks reddened—he couldn't think of another time when he'd begged someone to talk to him like this. The situation appeared totally alien.

The door opened hesitantly. Ashitare, dodging his eyes, said, "O-okay. C-c-come in." Haku silently thanked the gods Shuro was gone. Kidzi, in the form of a bronze rabbit, perched on top of Ashitare's pillow. Her ears perked inquisitively as Haku entered. Ashitare motioned for Haku to sit on Shuro's bed, then she sat on her own. Kidzi hopped onto her lap.

Haku momentarily wished the demon were gone. It would be one less pair of watching eyes, and Kidzi kept her eyes on Haku every second. Ashitare still avoided making eye contact, and focused fixedly on petting Kidzi instead. The awkwardness stood in the middle of the room, like a physical barrier.

"So, how are you?" asked Haku lamely. The room seemed intolerably hot, and he could feel moisture where his hands were gripping the bed's edge.

"F-fine." The demon's full gaze continued, unabated. Suddenly Haku found Kidzi incredibly irritating.

Stop this, Haku, he scolded mentally. Don't say any more idiotic things, and don't attack the damn demon. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Haku said, "You heard what I said last night to Faran-Zhuku, didn't you, Ashitare?"

Ashitare nodded mutely, and her facial muscles contracted in an effort to stifle a sob. The motion wrenched Haku, and he instinctively moved to sit next to her. He took care not to be too close, in case it overwhelmed her. The words came more easily to Haku now. "I'm sorry, Ashitare," he said. "I didn't mean it. Faran-Zhuku likes to rile me, which often makes me say stuff I regret later."

At least the demon wasn't staring at him now. Ashitare turned shining eyes towards Haku. Her mouth opened to speak, but she gulped and closed it again. The impulse to cry won out, and she began sobbing softly and intermittently. Haku hesitated, then put his arm around her shoulder. "A-are you in-interested in me?" The question almost disappeared in the midst of a sob, but Haku's ears managed to pick it up.

He thought a long time before answering. "Well, I guess it never occurred to me that anyone would develop such feelings for me, nor I for anyone. I don't know how to respond to what I feel for you." His rational voice screamed at him to stop encouraging her, and beseeched him to remember Asheno. "I've been screwed up for so long that I never thought I'd be able to love anyone in a romantic way."

"I-I never…th-thought I'd f-f-find…anyone w-worth it," said Ashitare, hiccupping twice. "I thought m-my s-st-stuttering would s-scare every boy away." She smiled weakly at him. "I'm s-screwed up, t-t-too. I-I will be p-patient with you, if you're w-willing to be p-patient with m-me."

Haku smiled slowly. "All right." The room didn't seem quite as hot anymore, and his hands had stopped sweating so much. Ashitare hugged him tightly, pressing her wet face into his shoulder. They remained that way for several minutes, and then they talked about little things until Rhena called everyone to dinner. Haku didn't have the heart to warn Ashitare about Asheno—he couldn't ruin their happy moment, especially hers.

Dinner made Haku uneasy. On a miserable stroke of luck, Asheno had decided he was well enough to dine with everybody. It had to be right after Haku and Ashitare became a couple.

"Only in this family…" muttered Haku, heading straight back to his room. He slammed the door shut and flopped onto his bed angrily, cursing Asheno's diabolically perfect timing. The anger served as a cover, though. Haku couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely feared Asheno. In the past, he hadn't really cared if Asheno struck him or verbally abused him. He could take it, but Haku felt certain that Ashitare wouldn't be able to.

Predictably, Ashitare sat next to Haku at dinner. Her pleasure showed clearly in the light flush in her cheeks and her happy expression. Haku started talking to her, not noticing anyone's reaction. In the middle of a sentence, his ears picked up the sound of footsteps from the direction of Asheno's chambers, and he fell silent, looking at the mahogany door. Ashitare chattered on obliviously, focused on cutting her roast beef.

The door swung silently open, and in hobbled Asheno, leaning lightly on Lonisi's arm. A fresh patterned red-and-white hekasho adorned the family head's ghostly frame. The general buzzing quickly vanished as the Dzuni realized who'd just entered. Haku's insides froze sickeningly, as he saw an unmistakable flash of comprehension and glee pass through Asheno's eyes, which were fixed upon him and Ashitare from the start. Of course the sharp mind of Asheno would immediately make the connection. Though Ashitare had a bad speech impediment, it still didn't prevent her from transparently showing her emotions on her face.

Asheno was the opposite; his face did not betray his thinking as he greeted his tight-lipped wards. Hatsuharu briefly glanced at Haku in alarmed concern. While Asheno directed Lonisi, who filled his plate for him, Haku shook his head almost imperceptibly to signal Hatsuharu to stay quiet. Ashitare had dropped into her customary terror around Asheno, so she wouldn't say anything.

The rest of dinner passed in a ubiquitously painful silence. The more perceptive Dzuni sensed the subtle power shift in the dynamic between Haku and Asheno, which further compounded the acute discomfort. Asheno ate at a slow pace, content to torture the kids with his mere presence.

Haku left without speaking to anyone, as soon as Asheno walked out the door in state. He'd been in his room for an hour now, thinking fitfully. Ashitare hadn't come to see him. Probably Hatsuharu explained the situation to her. Sooner or later Haku would have to speak with her—hopefully she didn't misinterpret his silence as being mad at something she said. Ashitare was always too quick to blame herself, as Rhosu once commented to Hotohori.

Perversely, Haku felt relieved that Hatsuharu and Shuro were no longer in danger from Asheno. Haku had always been the bigger prize for Asheno than Hatsuharu, and Haku had known since the night he first started hearing voices. He was the one Asheno most wanted broken and submissive to the god's will. A conquered Haku would vindicate Asheno's mangled effort at reinstituting the curse.

No, it must not happen. Momentarily, Haku thought of telling Dzin-E to guard Ashitare. He dumped the idea because he knew Dzin-E would never agree to do something so subservient. Besides, her mental state was undoubtedly questionable. Haku could confront Asheno by himself, but then Asheno might pretend to know nothing. In a psychological war, Asheno would definitely outmatch someone as prone to bluntness as Haku. Ashitare had no chance in such a situation.

The next option that Haku seriously contemplated was murder. Dzin-E had certainly proved that she could kill efficiently, if messily. Remembering the bloody death of the serving girl that he and Hatsuharu witnessed, Haku instinctively turned away from the idea. Also, murder meant sinking to Asheno's level, which Haku's pride couldn't stomach.

Haku sighed, and dug his head deeper into the mashed pillow. His highly tuned nose told him that it was time to change his sheets soon. "Ugh," he grunted, "It's starting to smell like the locker room at school." Haku made no move to arise, and continued to ponder his problems.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and Haku started dozing off. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. He sat up, considering the new idea that had just come to him. "Dzin-E?" he finally called in a muted voice, after a few minutes.

The black shadow formed rapidly on the floor next to the bed, and gradually solidified into a giant wolf sitting on its haunches. **"Yes?"** asked Dzin-E warily.

Haku hesitated, noticing the wolf's unusual response. "I've decided," he said.

**"Decided to do what? Clean your room? Congratulations,"** Dzin-E's outline blurred as the wolf began to evaporate.

"No, wait!" Sighing, Dzin-E's form returned to full solidarity. "I meant, I want you to show me those visions of our parents," explained Haku. The wolf's response hardly encouraged Haku. The glowing red eyes narrowed, making them look like dying coals in a fire, and Haku thought that she would be frowning deeply if she had a human face.

Finally, the wolf growled. **"It not wise."**

Momentarily, Haku faltered in the knowledge that the wolf's reticence attested well to the unpleasant contents of those particular visions. **"You already have some idea what happen,"** pressed Dzin-E. **"That more than enough."**

"No!" insisted Haku firmly. "I need the visions as leverage against Asheno."

This time the wolf appeared genuinely exasperated. **"I told you to stay away from monkey girl."**

"Her name's Ashitare," said Haku, miffed.

**"You have find some other way to resist Asheno,"** declared Dzin-E. **"Get other Dzuni to help."**

A pleading tone entered Haku's voice. "Please, Dzin-E."

The ghost sighed. **"I murder him instead. I can do that."**

"You know I don't want to do that. I can't do anything that would let Asheno win over me. If I told you to murder him, I'd be just as bad as he is. You understand that, don't you? Please give me the visions."

The embers disappeared as Dzin-E shut her eyes and fell quiet. I must be getting soft, she thought. I can't believe that I'm actually happy to hear him say that.

**"I technically bound to obey you,"** said Dzin-E finally, looking at Haku again.

"You'll do it, then?"

**"The visions may backfire on you,"** warned Dzin-E sternly. **"If you try blackmail Asheno, is very dangerous. Depends on whether your mind strong enough not be overwhelmed."**

"I can handle the visions."

**"But you have no plan. How you use visions against Asheno? Get police to arrest him based on visions given by your ghost wolf? He bribe them anyway."**

"Well, no," said Haku. "But I need to strip him of the psychological advantage he gained over me tonight."

The ghost snorted scornfully. **"You the one giving him the advantage. You the one letting yourself be scared. You let him get power. I think you ought not see visions."**

"What other options do I have?" demanded Haku belligerently.

**"As I say, get Dzuni to help. You too isolated even for lone wolf. They fight against Asheno also. It not you alone and you don't need fight by yourself." **

"You're one to criticize me." He said sternly, "Look, I make my own decisions, and I'll take responsibility for my decisions. I won't be beholden to anybody else!"

**"Even loved ones who can be harmed by your reaction to visions?"** The red eyes glittered dangerously. **"How you think Rhena feel, the one who raise you since you a baby? Or Hatsuharu, who protect you since harithe?"** Dzin-E did not need to offer more examples. **"Anyway, how you guard against Asheno? He might kill you or someone close."**

Haku remained silent for a long time. He shook his head. "I'll stay away from Ashitare, explain to her. Yes, that's what I'll do. I have to face Asheno. It's between him and me, because I'm the one he's most interested in. I have no other option, Dzin-E."

**"Fine."** The next second, a thin column of fading grey smoke was all that remained of the ghost.


	50. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: FB belongs to Natsuki Takaya, and anything else you recognize is also not mine.

**Chapter 52**

The "bad half" of autumn blew its way into Lhasa when the teens returned to school. The grass turned brittle, crunching audibly whenever one trod on it. Heavy jackets protected their wearers from the wind's bite. Many students at Karori had to rearrange their lockers to make room for their jackets. Dhizero was forced to borrow one of Hatsuharu's old coats, since he'd never needed a coat in semi-tropical Eirenrang.

Khosure's dramatic growth spurt turned several heads, which suited him well. The girls, in particular, began to pay more attention to him. Shala was amused when she once observed Hotohori glaring at a second-year who was fawning over Khosure. On the other hand, Shala didn't envy the second-year's place on the receiving end of the dragon's evil eye. Those jade green eyes could slice through a person effortlessly.

Shala still met with some of the Dzuni during lunch periods. In the two weeks since Khosure's sudden change, she noticed that Haku stopped coming by. Haku's literature teacher, whom Shala referred to as "The Hooker," ceased complaining about his scary aura, and instead started complaining about his depression.

"Well, he just sits in the very back corner," said The Hooker when Shala prompted her for more information. As she talked, she filed her claw-like nails. "Won't talk to anybody, doesn't participate in class, and most of the time I can't tell if he's even paying attention. The other students won't have anything to do with him, and I wouldn't either. Just stares at his open book for the entire hour."

Today, Shala met with Hotohori and Dhizero, who'd been placed in the same literature class as Hotohori. They were already inside the small conference room when Shala arrived with her sandwich lunch. Dhizero still hadn't become accustomed to the heavier diet that Hothans consumed, so he was eating a medium-sized fruit bowl and three cups of grape yogurt.

"Isn't your lunch a bit light?" asked Shala concernedly.

"I've always been a light eater," responded Dhizero. "Even though I'm a martial artist, my Dzuni's predisposed towards fruits. Tsials get most of their nutrition from fruit."

"Oh, I see." Shala took her seat and unwrapped her roast beef sandwich. She'd seen Adour once, when the tsial demon managed to contact Dhizero at Karori after a prolonged absence. Adour had to stay away from Dhizero whenever Haku was nearby, so Dhizero only saw her at school occasionally.

"How's Haku doing?" Shala asked after they ate in silence for a few minutes. "What's going on with him? Even his teachers are talking about his depression."

"Hatsuharu and Rhosu haven't been able to get anything out of him," said Hotohori, sighing. "Ashitare's also tried talking to him."

"He's close to Ashitare?" This was the first Shala had heard of Ashitare being Haku's confidante.

"They're together," explained Dhizero. "And Asheno found out about it, but he hasn't done anything to either of them."

Shala paused, surprised, in her chewing. "I thought Asheno didn't like his Dzunis pursuing romance."

"He doesn't," said Hotohori. "To tell you the truth, we don't understand what's going on. Both Ashitare and Haku insist that Asheno hasn't threatened them. If Asheno were harassing Haku, that might account for the depression, but that's not the case."

Dhizero jumped in. "Hatsuharu thinks Haku's having more visions."

"Yes, Haku often has the far-off look he gets during visions," agreed Hotohori. "It's the most likely theory anybody's come up with so far. Still, we don't know what visions would depress him so much. I'm worried about how quiet he is. Really, he's become too subdued."

Shala remained silent as Hotohori and Dhizero rehashed their speculations. She munched on potato chips thoughtfully, and said finally, "Could the visions be about your biological parents, or the thirteen?"

"What?" Both students looked puzzled.

"The thirteen," repeated Shala. "It's the name the ex-Dzuni use to refer to their children who disappeared while under Asheno's watch. You see, about eighteen years ago, thirteen of the ex-Dzuni's children, my older brother among them, were ordered to the main estate. Asheno didn't give any reason. We never heard from or saw any of them again." Shala tossed her plastic bags into the small trash can, and stifled the unpleasant memories.

"Hatsuharu's seventeen now," said Hotohori quietly. "Our ages are about right."

"You think those were our parents?" asked Dhizero, horrified. "Asheno did…whatever it was…to those kids to bring back the curse?"

Hotohori grimly stirred her soup. "Sounds that way, doesn't it, Dhizero? To be honest, I've suspected for a while now that Asheno killed our real parents. Considering how crazy the curse made our family, it seems reasonable for Asheno to believe that spilling blood would make the curse return." Dhizero stared incredulously at her. She glanced at Shala and saw her coffee cup shaking slightly in her hand. "Of course," added Hotohori hastily, "our parents and the thirteen might not be the same group of people. It's possible."

Shala smiled wanly. "There's no need to comfort me, Tori," she said, taking a steadying gulp of coffee. "For many years now, I've thought my brother had died, and some of the other Shomas think the same. But no one ever dared to say that out aloud, and this is the first time. It's harder than I thought it would be…" Shala's voice trailed off, and her fingers crunched the empty coffee cup. Not knowing how to respond, Hotohori and Dhizero kept their eyes on the table. A determined expression slowly crossed Shala's face. "Perhaps, if we knew the thirteen's fate for sure, we could finally get rid of the black harithe clouds hanging over our heads. We could grieve and move on. Then we wouldn't see or hear the specters of my brother and cousins everywhere. I practically grew up with their ghosts."

"We'll try asking Haku again," said Dhizero gently, and Hotohori nodded.

"And if it turns out that you are the children of the thirteen," continued Shala, "that would be a great comfort to all of us. I know that each of you would find a real family with the ex-Dzunis." Shala broke her reverie, and smirked roguishly. "We'll take you in, homicidal demons and all."

The next afternoon, the sky was just acquiring the golden-orange tint of sunset. Hatsuharu walked among the gardens' manicured pathways purposefully, yet in an almost cautious matter. These days it was difficult to tell how Haku would react to people. Sometimes any spoken words just bounced off him like a rubber ball, and he ignored it completely, listening to the tormenting voices in his head. Or he might snap violently, "Go away!" and cause his addresser to edge backwards away from him. Occasionally he'd let Hatsuharu and Ashitare speak to him for a few minutes, and that was the closest anybody had to a real conversation with Haku.

Hatsuharu pulled the neck of his jacket tighter. The breeze blew briskly, and he could feel the chill air seeping through the fabric. He sighed and made his way towards the overgrown paths of the northwest section. It would be fitting for Haku to be hiding out in the gardens' most alien and foreboding area. The top half of Old Blood, the massive flame tree, came into view as Hatsuharu crossed from neatly trimmed paths to feral, beaten-down trails.

He resisted a shudder as he passed by the dry stalks and the skeletons of bushes. Old Blood's formidable trunk became visible when he rounded a curve. Even though the plants stood bare and dry, ready for winter, Hatsuharu couldn't help thinking that each plant still breathed, that each yellowing stalk kept a sinister lookout as he passed. Set against the intersection of the walls, Old Blood appeared to be the pulsing heart, and its convoluted branching the arteries that carried the dark magic keeping the dead plants alive.

Suddenly stumbling over a snakelike root, Hatsuharu cursed too loudly. He scolded his imagination for getting carried away. Why couldn't Old Blood be cute and small like any other flame tree? Regaining his step, he momentarily regretted letting Hotohori talk him into questioning Haku again. Personally, he doubted whether or not he wanted to hear what Haku had been seeing in his visions.

The object of Hatsuharu's search finally appeared, sitting at Old Blood's base. The ancient, mammoth roots of the tree nestled around Haku, who seemed to be asleep. The roots cradled him, and to Hatsuharu it looked as though the tree was gradually absorbing Haku. His skin was whiter than usual, and Hatsuharu became concerned that he'd been out in the cold too long. "Haku? Are you all right?" When Haku remained as unmoving as before, Hatsuharu rushed up to him and shook his shoulder vigorously. Lethargically, Haku opened his eyes and shook his head. Hatsuharu kneeled in front of Haku, and gave him a few more shakes for good measure.

Haku's eyes stayed vacant a few seconds longer until he processed Hatsuharu's alarmed face in front of him. "Oh, you're here."

"You're icy to the touch," said Hatsuharu, forcing Haku to his feet by tugging on his forearms. "I've got to get you back inside." And away from this demonic tree, Hatsuharu thought to himself.

"Always the protector, Hatsuharu," remarked Haku, smiling dazedly as Hatsuharu began guiding him away from Old Blood. Haku seemed to be walking through water rather than air; his steps dragged as though an invisible force restrained his body. Hatsuharu adjusted his steps to fit Haku's sluggish pace.

"What were you dreaming of?" asked Hatsuharu automatically, before he could stop himself.

"A funeral requiem. The same one I've been hearing for the last two weeks." Haku turned an empty face to Hatsuharu's. " 'The Flame Trees of Thika' is beautiful when played on a violin, as you know very well." Haku giggled. "And the violin I've been listening to is the very same one you play on, Hatsuharu. You're very lucky to have such a fine violin." Hatsuharu stopped in the middle of the path, and an expression of fascinated horror grew on his face. Haku rambled on, apparently still in his dream state. "It's only fitting you've got that violin, of course. It used to belong to your father. 'The Flame Trees of Thika' was the last song he played on it before he died. He played his own funeral song."

Only an ineffectual "What?" escaped from Hatsuharu's gaping mouth.

"He died slowly," continued Haku, "like all of our fathers did. Asheno poisoned them bit by bit, after they'd…" A hard slap rang out, and Haku reeled, holding his hand to his throbbing left cheek. Tears blurred his vision, and Hatsuharu caught him before he fell to the ground.

"I can't listen to you anymore, I'm sorry, I just can't," said Hatsuharu gruffly. "I'm taking you back to the house right now." Haku grunted when Hatsuharu dragged him forward, trotting rapidly up the path. By the time they reached the back porch, Haku had fully regained his senses and was panting for breath.

"My word, Hatsuharu, what's—" A glare from Hatsuharu cut short Rhena's inquiry as the larger teen started pulling Haku up the stairs.

The bull didn't stop until he and Haku were safely enclosed in Haku's room. Haku remembered what he'd been saying up to the slap, and watched Hatsuharu carefully. "Hatsuharu," he whispered urgently, "I'm sorry. I wasn't in my right mind and I didn't know what I was saying."

"Is it true?" Hatsuharu's voice shook, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Haku realized how traumatized Hatsuharu was, and knew he would have to tread carefully to keep his older companion from losing it. Then again, Haku couldn't lie, either.

"I'm afraid it's true," Haku said softly, just above a whisper. "Asheno killed our parents. All of them."

"How?"

"I don't think now is the time to explain." The increasingly wild gleam in Hatsuharu's eyes made Haku extremely nervous. "I'll tell you later, when you've had some time to absorb the news," he promised. "Please, Hatsuharu, get a grip on yourself. Don't lose control of your Dzuni." His begging had some effect, to judge from the deep breaths Hatsuharu took to calm himself. The wild look began to dissipate.

"I'm going to my room," said Hatsuharu, his voice still quavering. "But just tell me one thing: did Asheno have to murder our parents for us to become Dzunis?"

Haku hesitated. "Well, no. That process was started when Karan had the triplets. Remember that?"

"Why? Why did Asheno do it?"

"Because he's a madman," answered Haku simply. No answer could adequately address the horrific deeds Asheno committed. "He wanted to get the curse to return, to get revenge on the Dzuni for plotting against him, and so he could die as the Dzuni god was supposed to." Hatsuharu huffed in disgust and left the room. Haku agreed wholeheartedly with his companion's response, and lay back on his pillow, suddenly drained.

Dzin-E had not dallied during this round of visions. She seemed to have gone through them as quickly as possible, to get them over with faster. After a mere week and a half, Haku had the whole gruesome story down. Now he spent much of his day in a sleepwalking state, he realized. The visions still hadn't sunk into his mind yet; half the time he told himself they were just horrendous nightmares. It made it much easier to take the visions.

Haku didn't bother to fight the sleepiness descending upon him. If they were just dreams composed by a sadist, he shouldn't have told Hatsuharu that his parents were dead. Maybe nobody needed to know…The thought fell apart as Haku drifted into a mercifully visionless sleep.

Rhena's firm hands shook Haku awake for dinner. He dutifully followed his old nursemaid down the stairs and into the dining room. Asheno and all the other Dzuni, except for Hatsuharu and Ashitare, were already seated. The family head's gaunt face scrutinized Haku closely.

"You look like walking death," pronounced Asheno, his cruel eyes hard and smug. Haku looked at his parents' murderer in the face, and scowled fiercely. "Hmm, too bad, I prefer you when you're quieter," Asheno murmured. "You're easier to handle then. Rhena, where are Ashitare and Hatsuharu?"

"Ashitare's come down with a cold and fever, sire," explained Rhena. "And Hatsuharu also said he was feeling unwell."

"Shame," shrugged Asheno. He motioned to Hatsumi to fill his plate for him.

Haku stared at his immaculate plate. No, Hatsuharu wasn't ill, but in grieving. As Lhurone prodded him to accept some food, Haku wondered if Hatsuharu was actually better off for being able to weep for his parents, and he felt vaguely envious.


	51. Chapter 53

A tad violent at the end of this chapter—just so you know. Although at this point it may be a bit silly for me to give such a warning (lol). This is not the last chapter—two more to go...

Disclaimer: The usual. Natsuki Takaya owns FB, and anything else you recognize also doesn't belong to me.

**Chapter 53**

The next day, a Wednesday, the sun shone brilliantly. The light was illusory, however, for no warmth reached the cold ground. Still, Lhasans learned at a very early age to value sunny days with no wind chill in the wintertime.

Rhosu sat back in her chair and looked lazily outside the window. Her science teacher, a young, fair man just out of the university, droned on about the laws of gravity. Laboratory days were much better. Then the students didn't merely sit while their teacher lectured without interruption. Rhosu reflected upon her experiences in the inner heart. Several times the laws of the physical world had not applied. She remembered one particularly hairy incident when a powerful miasma reversed the direction of gravity. Rhosu nearly lost the fight because she became motion-sick from her disorientation. Lately, she hadn't done any exorcising. She ought to start again; the students of Karori would provide plenty of work for her.

"Rhosu?" called her teacher, visibly annoyed.

"Yes?" She twisted her head towards the front of the room.

"This is the third time today. Please pay better attention!"

"Yes, sir," responded Rhosu as contritely as she could. The teacher resumed his endless talking, and Rhosu's eyes soon clouded over. She kept her head facing front; she figured she was safe as long as she only looked like she was listening. Thank heavens only ten minutes remained until the end of the day.

A flurry of action in the corner of her eye woke her up. Rhosu turned her head slightly, and saw a familiar pair of rabbit ears in the corner of the window. "What is Laren doing?" thought Rhosu. "This side of the building is visible from the street!" Rhosu leaned further towards the window, and saw Laren floating in midair. The demon seemed to be having a fit; she gesticulated frantically with her front paws and Rhosu could see the whites of her eyes. Laren's agitation made it clear that Rhosu had to speak with her now.

Rhosu raised her hand. "Excuse me, sir, but may I please go to the bathroom?"

"Go in between classes," said the teacher exasperatedly.

Scrambling for a good reason, Rhosu paused a moment. "But sir, I just started my period," she blurted. The teacher's lips twitched and he appeared discomforted. A melee of nervous snickering broke out among the boys, and the girls looked at Rhosu sympathetically. "All right, you may go," assented the teacher.

Grabbing her backpack and rushing into the nearest girls' room, Rhosu went into an empty stall, closed the door, and waited. Laren materialized above the toilet flusher the next moment. The bunny was panting.

"Something horrible's happened," gasped Laren. "I rushed over here as soon as I found out."

"What?" whispered Rhosu, fearful.

"It's Ashitare." That day, Rhena kept Ashitare home because her cold had gotten worse. "Asheno got her."

Rhosu stared at Laren, uncomprehending. "You mean…Asheno…beat her?"

"Very badly. He did it while Rhena was out shopping. A few minutes later, a servant found Ashitare lying on the floor of her room and called an ambulance."

"Oh my gods," Rhosu recited automatically, "oh my gods." It was all she remembered from an centuries-old prayer she'd learned as a little girl.

"The most I got out of Kidzi," continued Laren, "was that Ashitare was unconscious and had several broken bones. We don't know the full extent of her injuries yet."

Rhosu regained some control, and asked disbelievingly, "But how could Asheno be strong enough to hurt her that badly?"

"You'd be surprised," said Laren grimly. Laren remembered Asheno during his younger days too well, when the curse still held its sway over the family. "Rhosu, you must tell Haku now."

"Haku?" repeated Rhosu, dismayed. "He could lose control of himself and set the ghost wolf on a rampage."

"If he releases Faran-Zhuku, I'm sure it won't be here at Karori," reassured Laren, fully cognizant that the wolf might indeed run loose through the hallways. Laren knew she wasn't supposed to think dark thoughts, but deep inside she hoped that Faran-Zhuku would finish Asheno off at last. "No, Rhosu, the reason I want you to tell Haku now is so he won't find out from Asheno. Can't you see how terrible it would be?"

The bell rang, ending the last class period. "All right, I'll do it," agreed Rhosu in a heavy voice. The sun glittered outside, but Rhosu could feel the storm gathering as she ran through the hallways. Haku was like the lightning bolt—she couldn't predict where he'd strike after hearing the sordid news.

She found Haku putting books away into his locker. "Haku," she said, gripping his shoulder.

He started at the sudden touch. "Rhosu—"

"I have to talk to you now, but outside," said Rhosu urgently. She didn't bother to wait for his answer, but tugged him by the hand towards the front entrance. Rhosu figured that if the ghost wolf came out, the chances of a massacre were slightly less outside than inside.

Rhosu led Haku all the way to the fence. Some of the other Dzunis had been milling about the front steps, and the sight of an upset Rhosu pulling Haku compelled them to follow.

"Haku," hissed Rhosu, speaking quickly and looking him in the eyes, "my demon just told me that Ashitare's in the hospital." His shoulder muscles tightened under her hands. Rhosu delivered the final blow just as Hatsuharu, Khosure, and Ashiri reached them. "Asheno attacked Ashitare. She's badly injured."

In contrast to the explosive reaction that Rhosu had pictured, Haku became absolutely still. He didn't even blink, and only his chest moved as his breaths became more ragged.

"Haku, what's going on?" Khosure looked from Haku to Rhosu. The newcomers had just missed Rhosu's hurriedly whispered words.

The stillness was unnerving to Rhosu. She began to wish that Haku would scream in fury, break down sobbing, or do anything besides stare at her. Then at least she could respond somehow. By now, the entire Dzuni group surrounded them, and watched in mystification.

A horn honked insistently. The Shoma sedans had arrived to take them home. Lonisi came out of the lead car, and the doubly tragic look on his face told Rhosu that he knew.

Haku turned at the horn. Seeing Lonisi, he snapped out of immobilization and galloped through the fence of Dzunis. "Lonisi!" he yelled. "Take me to the hospital now!" The group stood in stunned silence as Haku disappeared into the sedan's interior, and Lonisi drove off without another word.

"What is going on, Rhosu?" demanded Hatsuharu.

"Excuse me, young'uns," said Bari, a junior chauffeur. Normally he was a cheerful sort, the opposite of his boss Lonisi, but today he wore a suitably sober expression. "Mr. Lonisi brought along another car if y'all want to go straight to the hospital."

"Hospital? What for?" said Hatsuharu, looking hard at Rhosu.

Exhaustion flowed through Rhosu, like an anesthetic, making her too numb to feel anything. "Asheno beat Ashitare," she announced dully to the group.

The Dzunis didn't return to the main estate until almost dinnertime, and only because Rhena ordered them to. She stayed behind with Haku, who refused to leave Ashitare.

"I couldn't recognize Tare under all those bandages," sobbed Shuro hysterically, as the sedans wended in and out of the busy nighttime traffic. Hatsuharu comforted Shuro as best as he could in his seething rage towards Asheno. Ashitare had been unconscious since early afternoon, and doctors were operating on her when the Dzunis arrived at the hospital. The attending nurse told them that the doctors were trying to relieve the pressure in Ashitare's brain. In addition, she'd sustained nasty cuts and several fractured bones. She'd have to stay in surgery for a while, as they tended to her brain and placed pins in some of her ribs. Rhena, in tears, promised to call the Dzunis as soon as there was any news.

Since the Shomas were major donors to the hospital, Rhena managed to keep the doctors and nurses from asking too many questions. The official consensus was that Ashitare fell down a flight of stairs. Later, it would occur to Haku that her injuries were quite similar to Rin's, whom Asheno pushed down the basement stairs forty years ago.

"I'm going to confront that bastard," declared Hatsuharu, meaning Asheno. The grand mansions of Mhagenu rolled by the windows. "He can't get away with this."

"I'll come with you," said Hotohori.

"We all will," said Hatsumi quietly. Bari swung left into the Shoma driveway. The gates opened wide.

In a few minutes, a mob of angry Dzunis gathered before the elaborate door leading to Asheno's chambers. Hatsuharu, the leader, placed his hand on the knob.

"Wait!" Shidora suddenly exclaimed. "I smell blood."

Dhizero sniffed. "So do I. The scent's faint, but it's blood." The teens looked at each other, disconcerted and uncertain. Everyone had the same unspoken question on their mind: did Faran-Zhuku arrive first?"

"Well, I'm going to look," decided Hatsuharu. Taking a deep breath first, he turned the knob and pushed the door opened. It creaked unusually loudly, and the tangy smell became stronger. Asheno's receiving chamber was dark as always, but Hatsuharu didn't need the light to see what had passed.

The message leapt from Shoma household to household—first among the families privy to the Dzuni secret, then to the "outsiders," the rest of the relatives. Shoma Asheno, the family head who'd lived an unusually long time, was dead.

A mystery hovered over his death. No one, not even the ex-Dzunis, were told how he'd died. The general assumption among the outsiders was that "his body just gave out" and that Asheno was lucky to die quickly rather than slowly. Lonisi, who took charge of the notifications, said nothing about Ashitare, even to the ex-Dzunis.

Shehure, Mahalina, Ahame, and Mhine were eating a leisurely dinner with Hathori and Karan when the phone rang. Shehure would remember that moment with crystalline clarity to the end of his days. Hathori, grumbling at the phone's interruption, got up and walked to the wall phone in the kitchen. A loud "What?" from Hathori stopped the soft conversation that continued at the table. Everyone turned their heads towards the kitchen, their ears primed. When they heard, "Asheno's dead? Really," they all gasped.

A minute later, Hathori rushed out of the kitchen. "That was Lonisi, his head chauffeur. Asheno died sometime earlier this afternoon."

"How?" asked Ahame.

"He wouldn't tell me. We'll hear from him again about the funeral arrangements. But he said we could come to the main estate tomorrow, and that the Dzuni might like to see us."

From then on, the scene turned into a weird mixture of crying and laughter. This reaction would be repeated as the news spread to the ex-Dzunis. Karan poured wine for everyone, while Ahame launched into an exuberant monologue about how glad he was that Asheno died. Mhine and Mahalina sobbed quietly out of relief.

"I wonder if Huki knows yet?" wondered Ahame.

"Oh, that reminds me," said Hathori, getting to his feet again. "I told Lonisi I would take care of informing the rest of the former Dzunis."

"We'll help," volunteered Mhine, now recovered. Mahalina moved to join the calling crew. Karan declared that she would bake cookies for the young Dzunis.

In the excitement, no one noticed Shehure's silence. His busy mind was already mulling what would happen next. He didn't even focus on the fact that his long-time archenemy was dead, not yet. Instead, he wondered, who would be the next family head, if the curse had been replaced by whatever spell created these powerful and sometimes frightening new Dzunis? Was there anything they could do about the new Dzuni curse? Was it a curse, really, or something else entirely?

The question that nagged at him most was how Asheno died. He found it suspicious that Lonisi, who knew the old Dzuni well, had refused to tell. Instinctively Shehure thought of Haku, and wondered how the boy was doing.

In the early hours of morning, as Shehure slept, a dream answered one of his questions and left many more unanswered. A dream, or a vision, Shehure couldn't say which.

At once, Shehure recognized and abhorred the room in the dream. Asheno's private parlor was exactly the same as he remembered it. Chaise, pillows, side tables, drapes, carpet, dimness, stuffy air—nothing had changed. It was daytime, and the rays that broke through the draperies provided what scant light existed.

Shehure, an invisible bystander, stood next to the wall opposite Asheno's headrest on the chaise. The family head was nowhere to be seen. Then the elderly dog's ears picked up the sound of a door opening. There was a door next to the chaise, across from Shehure, that led to Asheno's bedroom.

His old archnemesis entered the room, and Shehure, who'd not seen Asheno in a few decades, was struck by how beautiful he was still. Illness had made him gaunter, but he still possessed delicate cheekbones and a full head of hair. The silvery streaks only made Asheno appear more venerable. Only minuscule wrinkles dared touch his eyes, forehead and mouth.

Asheno closed the door daintily, and turned around. Then Shehure noticed the bloody hands, and the malicious grin of satisfaction as Asheno examined his hands on both sides. Shehure had seen that look before, whenever the young Asheno had just finished successfully torturing Huki.

"Such a shame to have to wash this off," murmured Asheno as he neared the porcelain washbasin kept near his chaise. Servants kept it filled with cold water, so Asheno could refresh his face when he wished. The water turned into a rusty color as the still-warm blood diffused through it. Light brown streaks appeared on the white hand towel as Asheno dried his hands. Asheno mused, "It's been what, seventeen—no, I think eighteen years since I last had blood on my hands? I shall have to check." He laughed, the light, dangerous laugh that rang all too clearly in Shehure's ears. The last pronouncement made Shehure's blood run cold. It had been eighteen years since his son and the other twelve disappeared.

Asheno settled into his chaise. "Finally, control over Hararu's son," he said. Shehure inhaled sharply at hearing his son's name. Examining his fingernails, Asheno frowned. "I shall have to get the blood out from under my nails. So stubborn, like his father," Asheno said, returning to Hararu's offspring. "I don't know why I didn't do this sooner. Really, I could have spared myself so much trouble."

Shehure only listened in horror as the shrill siren of an ambulance sounded close by. Asheno obviously relished the sound. "I hope she lives," he cackled. No servant came to tell Asheno of anybody injured—Shehure figured that Lonisi must have waved off the servants.

In agony, Shehure continued to watch as hours seemed to crawl by, with Asheno smugly reclining on the chaise. Actually, only ten minutes passed before someone knocked on the door at the room's far end, the one connecting to the great entry hall.

"Come in, I'm in a wonderful mood today," called Asheno. The mahogany door, creaky as ever, swung open. Shehure immediately recognized Haku from Shala's descriptions. The young man stood in the doorway with a blank face, and dressed in a plain blue hekasho.

"Haku," said Asheno bemusedly, one eyebrow cocked, "I didn't realize you played hooky from school today. Never mind that. As I said, I'm in a good mood today." He sat up on his elbow. "Come here, so we can speak properly."

Haku proceeded across the rich carpeting at a relaxed pace, as though this meeting were inconsequential.

"Perhaps you're not aware of what has happened?" inquired Asheno. Shehure, peering closely at Haku, saw none of the wildness that Shala had referred to so often. He knew that Haku struggled with depression these days; perhaps that was why his face seemed so immobile.

"Your little girlfriend, Ashitare the stutterer," said Asheno quietly, "now understands the error she made in not paying due homage to me. My Dzuni should respect my wishes. If I feel that they cannot handle romantic relationships, then they should not date."

Haku's facial muscles moved for the first time, as he smiled slyly. "That has little to do with your real reason."

Asheno leaned back against his pillows. "Oh? And what is my real reason, pray tell?" Shehure was unnerved by Haku's strangely emotionless smile, and if Asheno was as well, he hid it quite effectively.

"To beat me into submission. I'm sure you've noticed my depressed state of mind these last few weeks. When Ashitare fell ill, you saw the perfect opportunity to pummel her. She would have been too frightened and ill to resist you, and you thought I'd be too fragile mentally to fight you. I'm sure you fantasized about me crumbling into a heap upon hearing the news. Well? Have I explained your thinking accurately enough?"

An almost imperceptible flicker of alarm crossed Asheno's face. He shook his head disparagingly and sighed, "I see. So you're still being impossible." Raising his eyes, he fixed a burning glare at Haku and said in a low voice, "Allow me to remind you that I was fully within my rights as your God."

Haku laughed hysterically, almost insanely. Shehure realized that this was extremely strange behavior, beyond Haku's normal levels as described by Shala. Something else was going on, that neither he nor Asheno was privy to.

The laughter finally faded, and Haku, smiling gleefully, declared, "You are not a god, Asheno, and you have not been one since the curse ended. Even when you were a god under the curse, you were a sorry sight." Asheno raised himself onto his hands, his face white with rage. "Small wonder everyone went behind your back, Asheno."

"You…will…be…silent…" growled Asheno.

"You know perfectly well that you have no idea what we are now," continued Haku. "Even if you did, you are too weak and fragile to be our god. I thought you should've been put out of your misery long ago, but Haku would not let me."

"What?" Simultaneously, Asheno and Shehure gasped.

"Yes, Haku's demon spirit has decided to pay you a special visit." The fake-Haku grinned evilly. "I changed into Haku's form so I could have a little fun with you first."

"What are you?" asked Asheno hoarsely. Sweat beads gleamed on his face.

"I have no desire to tell the likes of you. But you have heard of me. I'm known as Faran-Zhuku around here." The ghost took a few lackadaisical steps forward. "I believe I caused a stir when I killed some of your servants. And by the way, I'm still a little insane."

Asheno now shook visibly from fear. He sat, paralyzed by the ghost's unyielding eye contact.

"I did not come here at Haku's command," continued the ghost, edging closer. "I came here of my own will. As I say, you should've been put down long ago like the worthless cur you are."

Shehure watched, transfixed in horror. Everything moved in slow motion. He missed the rest of the ghost's words, as he watched the man's dark brown eyes transform into flaming reddish-orange circles. The ghost's smile stretched grotesquely across its face, revealing oversized, razor-sharp fangs. As it hunched over on all fours, Shehure observed its hands and feet morphing into enormous paws with lethal claws. The old dog had never seen such a gargantuan, monstrous wolf. Asheno never screamed; the massive jaws clamped down on his neck and terminated his life in one swift bite. The sounds of ripping flesh and muscle, and shattering vertebrae filled Shehure's ears.

The last thing Shehure saw, before the dream abruptly ended in a brownish-red murk, was Asheno's severed head plopping into a bloody pool on the dais.


	52. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: FB does not belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 54**

Upon Asheno's death, Hatsuharu assumed the role of family head. Shoma tradition dictated that in case the next Dzuni god had not yet been born, or was too young, the eldest Dzuni would rule in his or her stead. This system had worked for over 500 years.

The death of a prestigious family's head always caused a stir in Lhasa. Before long, innumerous city councilmen and wealthy scions descended upon the main estate to make consolation calls. Hatsuharu visited with each, as required, and felt thankful for Lonisi's presence. The old chauffeur knew every guest, and surreptitiously whispered information into Hatsuharu's ear. Due to his imprisonment inside the main estate, the cow had no clue who his visitors were. Hatsuharu privately marveled that Asheno kept in contact with so many people, despite his isolationism.

The funeral would take place a week later, and the Dzunis would stay home from school, according to custom. They took refuge in the quieter sections of the house, away from Hatsuharu's court, and waited for news of Ashitare. Her operation had gone successfully, but she had yet to regain consciousness. Rhena returned to the house the day after Asheno's death, just before food bundles began arriving from Shoma family members.

She couldn't persuade Haku to leave. "He's too quiet and he isn't angry," Rhena replied when Hotohori asked her how he was. "I don't like it at all, dear. He must come home sometime and rest." The deeply etched dark spots under Rhena's eyes, and lines of weariness attested to her extraordinary fatigue. The Dzunis immediately pitched in, so she could get some much-needed rest.

The work momentarily distracted the teenagers from the mist of uncertainty that pervaded their thoughts. They had all desired freedom from Asheno, but none had ever considered what to do once he was gone.

"Do you think we might meet the old Dzuni?" asked Lhurone hopefully as he assisted Hatsumi in arranging newly arrived food baskets on the second day. Sweat stained the backs of their t-shirts from carrying heavy baskets to upper level storerooms above the kitchen, which were drier and less musty than the basement storerooms. Lhurone and Hatsumi had to stock perishable food in the freezers.

"I'm sure we will," grunted Hatsumi, turning too soon into a sharp corner. "It's only natural that they'd come."

Lhurone vaguely remembered the tall, older woman from the time he fought with the gangster. She looked just like him, and he thought of her as kindred already. A small hope began to emerge that she would accept him as part of her family. At the same moment, a tiny, panicked voice in the back of his mind spoke against splitting from his fellow Dzunis. Lhurone smiled ironically to himself; he'd been living in the Shoma household for too long.

"Hey!" Khosure's voice yelled excitedly from the first floor. "Hatsumi! Lhurone! Two of the ex-Dzunis are here! Come meet them!" Stuffing the rest of the food into the freezers heedlessly, Hatsumi and Lhurone rushed down the stairs. There, Khosure led them through a back hallway into a spacious parlor in the house's guest wing.

In sharp contrast to the house's older wings, harmonious light greens, blues, and white shone from the walls and furnishings. This parlor appeared considerably fresher than the main hallway's old-fashioned reds and browns. Looking around Khosure, Lhurone and Hatsumi saw two men seated on the green-striped sofa. They appeared middle-aged, but few wrinkles marred their faces. The black-haired one had a few silver streaks and lighter skin, but otherwise he bore a remarkable resemblance to Haku. The second was attired in a somber dark grey business suit, and sported the same auburn hair and jade green eyes as Hotohori. The other young Dzunis stood nervously against one wall, eyeing the newcomers awkwardly, yet curiously. The two men appeared just as tense, although a sense of relief hovered visibly in their expressions.

"Oh, I see three more have arrived," remarked the dark man, resplendent in a blue flower-patterned hekasho.

"My goodness, you are tall," murmured the taller man placidly as his green eyes scanned Khosure.

Lhurone strangled his tiny panicked voice as he walked around Khosure. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, smiling broadly. "My name is Halinake Lhurone. I'm the one who was fighting in Shoma Rin's backyard."

"Rin will be pleased that you remembered her," chuckled Shehure. Hathori's lips curled in amusement.

"Is she here?" asked Lhurone impulsively.

"No, but you'll meet her soon. She's been wanting to meet you as well," replied Shehure, grinning. "We decrepit and ancient ex-Dzunis have been waiting for a chance to see you," he said, addressing the group at large. Khosure, Hatsumi, and Lhurone stood next to the sofa, across from the other teenagers.

"I'm Shoma Hathori. I used to be the dragon," said the doctor coolly.

"Don't let Hathori scare you," scoffed Shehure. "His dragon was nothing like yours, if I remember rightly." Shehure looked pointedly at Hotohori, who blushed.

"Stop that, Shehure. This is only the first meeting," scolded Hathori, "we shouldn't embarrass them like this." He turned back to the group. "And this immature person is the former dog, Shoma Shehure."

"Hathori sounds just like you, Tori!" exclaimed Khosure.

"Kho!" hissed Hotohori, glaring at the snake. Her face flamed in acute embarrassment.

"This brings back memories, doesn't it, Hathori?" snickered Shehure. "I believe our snake, Ahame, annoyed you in the exact same manner." A small chuckle escaped from Hathori, and the tension in the room eased as the teenagers also laughed.

"There are three of you missing, isn't there?" queried Hathori, when the noise died down. "I've counted only ten of you so far."

"Hatsuharu's head of the family now, so he's busy seeing all the guests now," explained Shuro. "Haku's still at the hospital with Ashitare."

"Hospital? What's this?" asked Shehure, his easygoing face transforming into worry.

The teenagers exchanged silent looks with each other, and Hotohori finally spoke. "Well, Asheno beat Ashitare, who's the monkey, the day he died, and she was seriously injured." Shehure's face became grim as he remembered his grisly dream. Hotohori continued, "She still hasn't woken up yet, and Haku won't leave her side."

"I can't believe he did it again, after all these years," spat Hathori disgustedly after a minute's speechlessness. Shehure contemplated the children quietly. He recognized the same bitterness and personal pain in their countenances as in the old Dzunis'. Asheno had had time enough to scar them.

Hathori was speaking. "I have many friends at Akam Shu Hospital if you need help with Ashitare's care." The old dragon stood up, and reached inside his blazer. A worn brown leather notebook came out. "Things often become tricky when a Dzuni has to be hospitalized. It's difficult to dodge doctors' questions."

"Well, we don't know any of the details," said Hotohori, "but it's very kind of you. I can introduce you to Rhena, our caretaker. She's the one that you ought to talk with."

"Khosure's right," chuckled Shehure. "Hotohori's exactly like you, Hathori. You go speak with Rhena, and I'll pay my respects to the new family head in the meanwhile. It's only polite, as you know. Would one of you kiddies be willing to guide a doddering old man to Hatsuharu?"

Rhosu volunteered right away. A minute later, she and Shehure were walking alone down a darkened hallway at a leisurely pace. Laren snuggled into Rhosu's chest, but kept an eye on Shehure the entire time. The demon remembered Shehure's perverted reputation quite well.

"Do you speak any Gogothan?" asked Shehure.

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not," admitted Rhosu cheerfully. "I lived in Hareth my entire life, and I've never traveled to Gogotha. Or Zi Alda, for that matter."

"You might have some trouble understanding your predecessor, then," said Shehure. "He has a very heavy Gogothan accent. He's flying into Lhasa tonight." He kept up a friendly banter with Rhosu, but Shehure's mind entered a past time as he walked through intimately familiar hallways. They passed the patio where a ten-year-old Asheno saw Lhadoman's true form for the first time. The hellish stench still reeked as strongly in Shehure's memory as it did then.

Dhizero won't have that problem, thought Shehure.

"We're here," announced Rhosu. The wide double doors came into focus, and Shehure realized that the main parlor lay beyond. He felt mildly silly asking for a guide to a room he knew well. Rhosu proved a very pleasant companion, though. She couldn't stay depressed for long, like Nharu.

Rhosu leaned all her weight against the left door, and it yielded grudgingly. A faint buzzing reached their ears. "Oh, good," Rhosu remarked to her charge, "there's only two or three people left. You'll have no trouble seeing Hatsuharu." She beckoned Shehure to follow her.

Three aged men in black hekashos held Hatsuharu captive, as they politely enquired after Asheno's share in their company. "I'll ask Asheno's lawyer to look into the matter, and contact you as quickly as possible," promised Hatsuharu. The men, mumbling their thanks, bowed and departed.

Hatsuharu's shoulders sagged. "Ghosu," he muttered savagely. His eyes widened when he finally noticed Rhosu and Shehure approaching, and he twitched convulsively.

"Sorry, Hatsuharu," giggled Rhosu. "We didn't mean to give you such a scare."

Recovering his composure, Hatsuharu smiled wearily and bowed to Shehure. "Please excuse me, sir. It's been a long day."

"There's no need for formality," said Shehure. "I'm family. Real family, as opposed to a business associate," he added wryly. "I heard your little exchange with those men."

"This is Shoma Shehure," explained Rhosu hurriedly when she saw Hatsuharu's uncomfortable look. "He used to be the Dzuni dog. He's visiting with Shoma Hathori, another ex-Dzuni."

"Oh, I remember Rhena telling me about Hathori," Hatsuharu exclaimed, relaxing. "Forgive my manners, I'm Shoma Hatsuharu. It's an honor to meet you at last."

"You look just like my little brother, except more muscular," commented Shehure. "He was the cow, and he's also named Hatsuharu. But we just call him Haru."

The boy grinned. "I suppose it's only natural because of our hair colors."

Shehure laughed. "I'm afraid I'm the one who suggested the name to my parents, so I'm the one to blame."

"No, no," insisted Hatsuharu. "I've always liked my name. Let's sit down. You too, Rhosu, if you want to stay." They took their seats around a circular table large enough for four. Laren occupied the fourth space, which lay in the sunlight.

"How are you doing, Hatsuharu?" asked Shehure seriously. "Be honest."

The elder man didn't miss Hatsuharu's fidget. "Well enough," answered the youngster evasively.

"Define 'well,'" prompted Shehure, one eyebrow slightly arched.

"Hatsuharu, the rest of us told him about Ashitare," Rhosu said quietly. The cow sighed loudly and looked at the tabletop, which gleamed from a fresh polishing.

"I'm tired," Hatsuharu finally confessed after two slow minutes. His words sounded leaden and just as exhausted. "I don't know most of the people who come calling, and half of them are businessmen who are only concerned about what'll happen to Asheno's shares in their companies. The heavens know I despised Asheno, but it's so sad that no one loved him…" His voice began breaking, and his breaths grew ragged. He laughed miserably. "Gods, listen to the way I'm talking! I, the one who fought back whenever he tried to pick on Haku or me! He almost killed Ashitare, and I hope she doesn't die, and I'm pitying him! He killed my parents, and Haku's, and everybody else's, just to fulfill a pathetic, futile fantasy! He shipped off eleven of us to godforsaken places to live miserable childhoods, to hide us from you! And I say that he was such a sad person…" The sentence died as Hatsuharu ran out of breath. He buried his face in his hands. "I'm very happy Asheno is dead," he continued in a low voice, "but I don't know what the Dzuni and I will do now."

Shehure and Rhosu listened to the rant silently. Afterwards, Hatsuharu's deep, controlled breaths were the only sound in the room, as the cow struggled to compose himself. The old dog stared at the far wall blankly, as his mind processed what Hatsuharu had just blurted out.

"Your parents are dead?" asked Shehure blankly. He'd not seen Rhosu's face sink in grief.

"Yes," Hatsuharu replied automatically, "Haku saw it in his visions. Asheno ordered thirteen children of the former Dzuni…" He stammered to a stop, remembering who sat with him. "I-I'm sorry, Rhosu, Mr. Shoma…"

"No, please call me Shehure. There are too many Shomas here," gently rebuked Shehure. He gave Hatsuharu and Rhosu a reassuring look. "It'll be all right. The ex-Dzuni would be more than happy to take you in if you choose to live with us. You can have new families, real families."

The teenagers became too choked up to speak. Laren was grateful for her rabbit form at that moment—otherwise, she would've been sobbing the loudest and hardest of all. Centuries ago, Laren had been known as one of the best criers among Dzuni demons.

Only Shehure, as the elder, remained dry-eyed. He stood up and patted both Rhosu and Hatsuharu on the shoulder. "You ought to get yourselves some lunch," said Shehure firmly. "It's well past lunchtime, and I know from experience how important food is to teenagers. I raised six of them, and it's a wonder I wasn't eaten out of my house." The dog's lighter tone succeeded in lifting the veil of grieving somewhat, and Rhosu managed a sickly smile.

"I did forget to eat today, in all the excitement," she admitted ruefully.

"What time is it?" Hatsuharu suddenly resumed his businesslike tone. "Rhosu, aren't we supposed to visit Ashitare soon?"

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Rhosu lowered the blue bandanna she'd been using as a tissue, and glanced at her watch. "In half-an-hour, actually."

"You'd better eat fast, then," smiled Shehure. "Please give my greetings to Haku, and I hope Ashitare improves quickly. Hatsuharu, do you think you could handle visits from a few more ex-Dzunis tomorrow?"

"I'm sure I can somehow muster the strength," said Hatsuharu, grinning slowly.

"Wonderful. Perhaps I'll send my little brother along tomorrow." Shehure winked at Rhosu. "And Nharu, too. I'm sure he'd like to meet the demon that once possessed him."

"I did like Nharu very much," agreed Laren.

As he turned to leave, Shehure halted and faced the teenagers again. "By the way, Hatsuharu, Rhosu, I'll tell the ex-Dzuni about your parents. Don't worry your pretty heads over it. Have you told the others yet?"

"No," answered Hatsuharu grimly. "But I will after we come back from the hospital."

A chaotic scene greeted Rhena and half of her charges as their elevator doors opened on Ashitare's floor. The other half were arriving by a second elevator, since they couldn't very well all cram themselves into just one.

"What in Ghobrin?" exclaimed Rhena as she perused the crowd of confused nurses milling outside Ashitare's door. The sterile white walls and dirty beige floors added an eerie element to the scene, as though it were in a futuristic movie and not happening in real life.

The floor's head nurse, identified by her golden-yellow vest, exited the room. Neither Rhena nor none of the Dzuni had ever seen any expression besides boredom on the head nurse's face, but today she bore a look of extreme consternation.

"What happened?" Rhena demanded as she stepped forward authoritatively. By now, all the Dzuni were gathered behind her, alarmed. Hatsuharu and Rhosu at the forefront.

The head nurse recognized Rhena and unsuccessfully attempted to appear bored. "Ma'am, the young man who stays with Ms. Thoshuruna has disappeared. One of my nurses saw him in the room just five minutes ago, and says he never left."

"It's true!" squeaked a diminutive nurse, obviously terrified of her superior.

The head nurse glanced disapprovingly at the interrupter, and spoke again in a hushed voice. "When I came in to check on Ms. Thoshuruna, there was a large amount of blood where he had been sitting. That is why we are so concerned."

At the phrase "large amount of blood," Rhena turned white.

"Ms. Thoshuruna is fine," assured the head nurse coolly, "and as a matter of fact, has shown signs of improvement. We will handle this incident with all due discretion. I will have to call security to investigate—"

"No!" yelled Hotohori. She smiled at the head nurse ingratiatingly. "I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding. You see, Haku is a hemophiliac."

"Well," said the head nurse, clearly suspicious, "then we must find him—"

"Oh, no, no," insisted Rhena, catching on to Hotohori's lie. "Haku always carries medicine with him. I expect he wrapped a towel around his cut and made his way to the closest bathroom. Hatsuharu, be a dear and go find Haku." Rhena's attention returned to the head nurse. "There's no need to call security."

"There's too much blood for a 'cut,' if he's hemophiliac," argued the head nurse.

"Haku has a rare form," shot back Hotohori.

As the fight escalated, Rhosu snuck around the edge of fascinated junior nurses. She slipped through Ashitare's door, and closed it without anybody noticing.

The head nurse had not exaggerated the amount of blood. The chair that Haku normally occupied next to Ashitare's bed had been overturned willy-nilly, and a packaged sandwich lunch lay scattered next to the chair. The blood mostly congealed on the floor in oblong-shaped lakes, rather than in the wild smudges commonly associated with struggling victims. Still, blood had sprayed onto the nearby wall and even onto Ashitare's bed, blanket and body. Purplish-scarlet droplets splattered across her arm. Perhaps an artery had been punctured in the attack, which would account for the blood spray.

Rhosu gulped, as she saw Kidzi materialize next to the chair, and beckon to her. When the little tamarin was certain of Rhosu's attention, she transformed herself into a giant wolf's head. The head then took a ferocious snap at midair, and then disappeared.

The Dzuni's heart thudded as she processed Kidzi's message: Faran-Zhuku had attacked Haku. Every shadow in the room suddenly seemed ominous and foreboding. Rhosu knew that in this room, she might be completely vulnerable should Faran-Zhuku return. At the same time, she instinctively guessed where Haku might be, and resolved to try to help him.

She listened to the melee outside. The head nurse, backed by her small army of aides, continued to wage battle against Rhena and the Dzunis.

"What's going on here?" demanded a deep voice that Rhosu recognized as belonging to Shoma Hathori, whom she'd met earlier at the main estate. He would delay anybody's entrance into the room a little longer, but she had to work quickly.

"_Zhos ishuro Hakuzi sharelen_," whispered Rhosu hurriedly, preparing herself for the burning sensation as the Rhonimori transported her to Haku's inner heart. The last thing she saw before she left the hospital room was Ashitare sluggishly opening her eyes.

At first Rhosu panicked and thought that she made a horrible mistake. She stood inside the entrance hall of the main house. Each piece of furniture sat in its proper place, the colors were the same, and even the drapes were tied in the same fashion as when she'd left the house for the hospital just twenty minutes ago. It was perfectly normal for a person's inner heart to contain some semblance of reality. However, a physical representation of the person's abstract thoughts and emotions usually dominated the inner heart.

Here, everything appeared normal. There were no pulsing blobs, no barbed wire barriers, no green-eyed monsters, or any other sort of monster or obstacle. Rhosu, paralyzed by confusion, could only stare out the bay window overlooking the primary garden.

Chills sank through her body as she realized that, after all, she had landed in Haku's inner heart. Outside the window, the wind roared and whipped the flora in its merciless onslaught. Only a harithe could achieve the painful pitch at which this windstorm fumed. It was autumn; harithes came in late winter or spring.

The lights were out inside. Moonlight provided the little light available, and the darkness enhanced the harithe's haunting effect. The shadows were blacker than any Rhosu recalled seeing in the Shoma mansion, which had its share of creepy shadows as old mansions did.

The absence of visible miasmas and the dimness told Rhosu just what she faced. It was the worst sort of miasma, an invisible yet omnipresent one: utter despair. Hopelessness had always been the most difficult dark emotion to combat in the inner heart. Rhonimori keepers learned to view despair as the step immediately preceding spiritual death, often in turn followed by physical death. Other dark emotions such as anger, jealousy, and sadness at least propelled the affected person to take action of sorts. Even futile action was better than no action, the inevitable effect of despair.

Rhosu could usually entice people away from most dark emotions by helping them reestablish contact with their positive emotions. Feelings such as anger tended to respond relatively easily to her intervention. Despair, however, was another matter. The person's recovery depended much more heavily on the person's ability to stir himself out of despair's python-like strangulation. The further a human progressed into despair, the harder it became to break free of it.

"Rhosu!" A furious and frightened voice pierced the endless howling. Rhosu jerked involuntarily, since the nerve-racking wind threatened to rip apart her remaining calmness. She took a deep breath, and saw Laren floating in front of her. "Rhosu, didn't you promise me that you wouldn't try to exorcise Dzuni miasmas without permission? Especially with the ghost wolf!"

The shadows increased slightly, and Rhosu sensed that she had to hurry. While Laren scolded her, Rhosu gripped the rabbit's head on both sides. She gazed straight into her demon's astonished eyes. "I have to help him. You can see for yourself how serious his miasma is. This may be his only chance, and he's bleeding from an attack by the ghost wolf. Please shut up and help me by telling me where he is."

Laren closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. "Haku's in Asheno's parlor now," she said in a defeated tone. Rhosu looked at the mahogany doors and gulped, stifling an image of Faran-Zhuku's threatening red eyes. "_Taltra, tsaraang_," she whispered to herself. A warm sensation suffused her body, and strengthened her. She'd need both courage and confidence for this battle.

Repeating the two "life-giver" words inside her mind like a mantra, Rhosu took measured steps towards Asheno's doors. Laren followed, fervently hoping that the ghost wolf wouldn't be waiting. The doorknob's iciness shot through Rhosu's hand as she pulled the right door open.

Haku sprawled on the floor, his torso and head lying on the dais. The moonlight from the bay window made his bloodless face appear more ghostly. His eyes were open, but stared dully at nothing. All the furniture and drapings had disappeared from the room, magnifying the funereal quality of the room. A large, growing stain on the carpet under Haku's left side made it clear to Rhosu that time was all too short. She decisively closed the distance between herself and the prone boy.

"Haku? Can you hear me?" The question echoed through the empty room. Rhosu knelt in front of Haku, her own face close to his. "Haku? I'm here to help you."

"Leave me alone," he finally enunciated in a crackly, monotonous voice. His eyes didn't move.

"And why should I?" With great difficulty, Rhosu focused her mind on positive emotions. Despair cases were particularly prone to trouble if the Rhonimori wielders couldn't control their own dark emotions. Strangely, combating a despair miasma was the one time when Rhosu was allowed to use dark emotions as a trigger for snapping the victim out of his or her resignation and hopelessness. The "life-givers" would be of little consequence until the victim wanted to leave the pit of despair. Such usage of dark emotions had to be managed very delicately, though.

"I'm a failure," replied Haku, making contact with Rhosu's gaze for the first time. The boundless depths of his pain made Rhosu's heart ache.

"Why do you think you're a failure?" Only sheer practice kept Rhosu from hurrying in spite of Haku's failing physical condition. He would not live unless the despair was broken first.

"I could not protect her." Haku began sobbing, and Rhosu started stroking his hair. In the meanwhile, Laren had perched on Rhosu's shoulder, and nervously kept a vigilant watch for the ghost wolf's presence. "Asheno beat her like he did every other girl who dared to date a Dzuni. I was foolish to think I could change anything."

"Asheno could not change," declared Rhosu firmly. "He was too deeply mired in his selfishness and insanity. His small, weak heart couldn't fathom true love. What happened to Ashitare was not your fault, Haku." The wind and darkness continued unabated, signaling to Rhosu that much more was at work besides guilt over Ashitare. She hoped that her last words might spur Haku to reveal his other problems.

"Yes, it was all my fault," insisted Haku. "Tare wouldn't have been hurt if I'd never been born…" His mouth worked as if he wanted to say more, but he stopped and grimaced in pain.

"And your parents would be alive if you'd never been born?" Rhosu finished his unspoken sentence for him. Haku nodded in numb confirmation. The wind screeched, and the bay window rattled precariously. Rhosu stared at Haku in speechless horror.

"Psst! Rhosu!" whispered Laren. "I feel no sign of the ghost's aura. It's very strange, but it seems to be staying away."

Haku's consciousness started drifting. "You fool!" yelled Rhosu. His eyes opened wide, and he focused on Rhosu. Laren appeared equally surprised. "Can't you see that this is exactly what Asheno wanted to reduce you to? A sobbing, passive hunk of flesh groveling at his feet! You do know that you're lying right where he used to sit in state, right?" Rhosu detected the slightest bob in the wind's pitch. "I can probably guess why Faran-Zhuku bit you. He couldn't stand seeing you reduced to this condition! For so long you've stubbornly resisted Asheno, only to crumple now, when he's finally dead!"

The window's loud rattling ceased. Rhosu glared at Haku, breathing hard from her tirade. Her verbal slap worked, and she now adopted a gentler tone. "Haku, you need to understand that you're not alone. Bearing the burden of these guilty and negative feelings entirely by yourself only takes a terrible toll on you. You're almost as bad as Asheno when it comes to shutting people out. We want to help you, but you keep dodging us. Hatsuharu has tried to speak to you several times, and so have Tare, Tori, and even Rhena." Rhosu paused, not wanting to overdo the lecture. Her mind hummed frantically, trying to figure the next step. The wind's intensity had fallen, but it still deafened her ears.

"I'm not entirely sure how our parents died," said Rhosu at last. "But if Asheno treated them just as badly as I'm guessing he did…" A sudden alertness in Haku's eyes indicated that she guessed correctly. "Wouldn't your parents be disappointed if you gave up now?" Inwardly, Rhosu winced. She found manipulating someone's dark emotions so detestable. It was working, however. The wind quieted to a dull roar, and some of Haku's old anger and defiance began to return. His normal emotions were a welcome change from his complete apathy.

She decided to bluff. "Ashitare woke up today, and she wants to see you. So do your grandparents."


	53. Epilogue

Well, the end is here at last. Thanks to all of you who've read the whole thing through and written me reviews—I really appreciate it:) I'm still working on the sequel, and I haven't decided yet whether to start posting the chapters.

Disclaimer: FB does not belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize. Also, the book "The Flame Trees of Thika" belongs to Elspeth Huxley's estate (I only used the title—the plot of this fanfic is totally unrelated to the book).

**Epilogue**

Four days later, the funeral of Shoma Asheno closed with a private service for intimate family members, as tradition required. Asheno's elaborately carved coffin rested upon a table placed on the dais in his parlor. The chaise had been removed elsewhere. The drapes were drawn closed across the great bay window. Rhena had lit candles in the wall holders, and the golden flames provided the only light in the room. As befit the last cursed Dzuni god, the thirteen Dzuni animals adorned Asheno's coffin.

The servants had placed ten rows of chairs facing the dais. The young Dzuni occupied the first two, and the former Dzuni, their spouses, and some of their children took the rest. Hatsuharu and Haku, his left arm heavily bandaged and wrapped in a sling, sat in the center seats in the front row. Ashitare, much improved, was still recuperating at the hospital.

Only Shehure was willing to deliver any sort of eulogy for Asheno, and its brevity made it memorable: "He was a pathetic human being, and for his sake I hope his life in the next world is better." A long silence ensued, during which most of the attendees glared at the coffin. Finally Lhoru's strangled sobs broke the tense quiet, and the sobs triggered an outbreak of grieving, for the children murdered by Asheno. Sometime, Haku began singing:

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha,_

_(Spring is still far away,)_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, _

_(And within the cold ground,)_

_Shedal thathu lesim surokha ashu _

_(Starved seeds await warm sun)_

_Su dho mhedosh han. _

_(And fresh silvery rain.)_

Hatsuharu, who'd been standing stone-faced, looked at Haku in shock. He couldn't believe that Haku was singing the very song that had tormented him so many times in his visions, and for Asheno of all people. Breaking off briefly, Haku glanced at Hatsuharu, who saw the tears standing in the wolf's eyes. The cow understood then—Haku was singing it for his parents and all the other victims of Asheno's madness. Hatsuharu started the song again by picking up the second verse. One by one, the Dzunis joined in, followed by their older predecessors.

_Shomithu lana lhunose _

_(Bereft of any leaves,)_

_Shum hararalor aha humumu _

_(Yet still standing although)_

_Nhozalor thithu hare karin _

_(Cruel mountain winds whip them,)_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru. _

_(The flame trees of Thika.)_

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, _

_(Spring is still far away,)_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, _

_(And within the cold ground,)_

_Atharalor eshusumal thathu _

_(Forgotten and stray seeds)_

_Hisukam su hiri. _

_(Begin to awaken.)_

_Surozi shomathu dzosisalor, _

_(Hundreds of years ago,)_

_Dzinuthu thumathu menare, _

_(Blossoms of fire open'd,)_

_Aleren lhorene lhosusu _

_(Bringing hope and color)_

_Fu Thika hitoremare. _

_(To forbidding Thika.)_

_Hatharu hel mhane khe aha, _

_(Spring is still far away,)_

_Su nalu rhizano ghobere, _

_(And within the cold ground,)_

_Fulanalor elerenalor lheshothu _

_(Deep and ancient roots)_

_Kheriza shahesu dhemi fusoro. _

_(Struggle to convey life upwards.)_

_Shomathu dzirosura emiros _

_(Will the flowers flourish)_

_Thiri shune ze li mahos ghobirime? _

_(To spite endless winter, or be swallowed by ice?)_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru _

_(The flame trees of Thika.)_

_Thi zhula faramazal, "Dziral _

_("Spring," whispered a rogue wind)_

_Hatharu hureno su neno _

_(will return without fail,) _

_Lhahemithumon lerenalor _

_(And with it, the trees that)_

_Ahami fu Hothizuna." _

_(Bring beauty to Hoth.")_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru _

_(The flame trees of Thika)_

_Thikazi lhahemithu shuru _

_(The flame trees of Thika)_

When the song ended, Rhosu noted with relief that Haku's cheeks were tear-stained.

Family heads were always buried in the northeast corner of the gardens, and Asheno joined his predecessors after the service ended. None of the family attended his burial, though. Rhena had laid out a modest buffet, and everyone gathered to eat and talk. The ex-Dzuni did not waste this opportunity to speak more with their grandchildren. Already some of the teenagers, particularly Khosure, Shuro, and Lhurone, planned to move in with their newfound relatives as soon as possible. In a sunny corner of the house's main parlor, Khosure chatted eagerly with Ahame and Mhine about new clothes—he lacked clothes that properly fit his unusually tall frame.

Some of the elders, such as Huki and Hanadzima, were still carefully wooing their more difficult grandchildren. Ashiri's natural distrust of people proved to be as hard to scale as Rhena prophesied, but over time, Ashiri's wall crumbled. Hiro and Khisa, the former sheep and tiger of the curse, had to deal with Hatsumi's discomfort at the thought of leaving the estate, which had guaranteed him shelter and safety. Shidora, enthusiastic about living with her real family, finally persuaded Hatsumi to agree to the move.

Then there were the Dzunis who felt fine with getting away from the main house, but nonetheless approached their relatives cautiously. Lhurone forcefully pulled Hatsuharu from his funereal obligations as family head to sit with Rin and Haru. For the last few days, Hatsuharu had avoided them because he couldn't think of anything to say. Now, with skillful prompting from Lhurone, he finally talked to them in a natural manner.

Rhosu and Laren first met Nharu the day before, and Rhosu still struggled to decode Nharu's thickly accented Hothan.

"R'osu," asked Nharu benevolently, "do you spaik Mougoth?" The silvery strands mixed in among his blonde hair made it gleam in the light. He petted Laren, who was very pleased with Nharu's progress since the curse's end.

"Er…I'm sorry, but can you please repeat that?" Rhosu felt the heat in her cheeks rise. Nharu was obviously a kind and good-hearted man, and asking him to repeat everything was so awkward.

"He asked if you speak any Mougoth—Gogothan," translated Laren. Instead of being offended, Nharu laughed gaily.

"Oh, well, I don't, I'm sorry, Nhar—Grandfa…Nha…"

"Cail me Grandpa, plaise," said Nharu. He tried to speak more slowly so that Rhosu could better comprehend his mangled Hothan. "And doun' woiry aboot spaiking Mougoth. Ay'm aboot to retaire, aneiway, and Ay'll move back to L'asa."

"No, Grandpa, don't trouble yourself so much—" protested Rhosu.

"Nou, nou," insisted Nharu, brushing Rhosu's objections with brisk gestures. "Ay 'ave nou real family in Eirenrang. My weife is dead feive years, and my fellow Dzuni aire all in 'Oth, most in L'asa. And eit will be better for you to stay in 'Oth, w'ere you knou the langouge and 'aive all your friends. Ay spaik 'Othan, and you doun't spaik Mougoth. Eit makes sense." Nharu smiled reassuringly at Rhosu. "And eif you didn't understind me, Ay'm sure Laren will eixplain. Ayverything will be fine, and Ay'll woirk on my 'Othan."

Hathori, Karan, and one of their younger sons stood in a group with Hotohori near the buffet table. "I thought so," sighed Hathori, overhearing Rhosu's exchange with Nharu, "Nharu's still as impossible to understand as ever."

"Shush, Hathori," said Karan. She turned back to Hotohori, who nervously fingered a mug of hot chocolate. "Hotohori, dear, why don't we sit on that couch? Then perhaps you can tell us more about yourself." Nearby, a zealous Khagura smothered an intimidated Khezuke with her maternal instincts, and her husband had little success reining her in. He whispered an apology to Khezuke, while Khagura chattered excitedly about cleaning up a room for Khezuke on their house's second floor. A similar dynamic established itself between Lhoru, Lhadoman, and Dhizero.

After the service, Rhena had accompanied Rhishu, the former monkey, and his wife Mhita to Akam Shu Hospital to meet Ashitare. It would be their first meeting, and all three were very nervous. Their mutual nervousness, however, proved to be the key to forming a close familial bond.

"There's our grandchild at last, Mahalina! It's about time, Haku—we were beginning to feel deprived, what with every other Dzuni connecting with their grandparents."

Shehure's jovial voice broke Haku out of his reverie. He sat on the little stone bench near Old Blood, in the garden's northwest section. For an unknown reason, Haku no longer feared the bizarre flame tree any longer. Perhaps because he now knew that his parents were buried in this section, the song had given him some closure, and Asheno was now gone—any one of those might be a contributing factor. His arm started to throb slightly, and Haku decided that he would take more pain medication once he returned to the house.

"Hello," Haku said as the couple approached him, gingerly picking their way through the bushy growth.

"Were you trying to hide from us?" asked Mahalina in the sarcastic tone Haku knew well from the visions. "I wasn't aware such a wilderness existed here, Shehure. Haku, do you come here often?"

Haku chuckled sardonically. "I've only learned to like it very recently. This week, actually."

"I'm still as terrified of this place as I was when I was a child," admitted Shehure.

Mahalina nodded ponderously in agreement, taking in the northwest corner's panorama. "Haku, it's freezing out here. Why don't you come inside with us?" She wrapped her coat around her more tightly. "All right, it's not as cold as it could be, but we're old, so cut us some slack. Now come on."

"Okay," said Haku. "I need more medication for my arm anyway." He heaved himself off the bench, and led Mahalina and Shehure through the clearest path in the undergrowth.

"Have you seen Dzin-E recently?" Shehure asked, untangling his coat button from a bush.

"No. I expect I won't see her for a while. She was pretty upset when she bit me," said Haku. "I get the feeling she won't be as big a problem now that Asheno's dead."

"I'm relieved to hear that," admitted Mahalina.

"So am I," chirped Haku.

They continued through the gardens, discussing a timetable for Haku's move to Shehure's house, and when Haku could meet their older daughters. Many unanswered questions still remained, such as the Dzunis' origin and relationship with the spiritual world. Such hefty issues blew away with the chilly wind on the day of Asheno's burial, as the young Dzuni instead focused on their immediate lives. Old Blood, on the other hand, bided its time for when the Dzuni would be complete again—which would occur in a relatively short time.


End file.
